Seals of darkness
by Lazaruss
Summary: Kain's empire perished without a trace by an unknown cause and he and his six sons didn't surface again. Thousands of years has passed, it's 1940, and someone started looking for something human kind was not meant to find...
1. Prologue

**Prologue : The Seven**

* * *

Lazaruss :" _Ah, how time flies, and more new ideas pop into my head. Real world-LoK crossover, though it has VERY little to do with the game timeline and all that has happened in SR, BO and Defiance. Except for the characters, a few locations, and a slight mention of the pillars at the beginning, you'll find no similarities what so ever, but rest assured, reading this won't be a waist of time…_

_I don't own anything…blah,blah,blah._

* * *

Brother Benedict Arsen was nervously squeezing the wooden hilt of his halberd. The keep was infested with darkness so thick, he could only see the point of it, when his weapon was fully extended, poking the veil of tar. His heart was beating again.

_Quiet… _he whispered to it : _We mustn't be heard…_

Benedict, or Ben as those close called him, was a full knight of the order for over a decade now. His long blond hair was fastened in two thin brides, peeks tied with black ribbons, and residing on the chest of his armor. His short neat beard was sticking out under the edge of his pointy helmet with a long blue silken thread as a symbol of a clear sky, and his sharp green eyes malignantly ran from corner to corner, searching for his quarry. Or his hunter. His armor with a sun engraved on the chest by golden threads, was completed with a silken pink cloak, and the metal was forged with rows of engraved runes by their skilled magi, for what ever protection they could offer.

No other party had ever been able to go so far and so deep before. If the land had a chance, he and his brothers were that chance. He paused before a window. The night gave neither stars nor moon. Perhaps it was for the best. He had seen enough of the tortured earth. People were dying by the score. Crops wouldn't flourish. Fruit wouldn't grow. Hunger and famine begun to take root, and illnesses would be soon to follow. Riots were already burning in almost every city. All because of the parasites.

No more. It had to end tonight.

" Brother Arsen… "; he heard a whisper

It was brother Immargo Akizum, a younger but very skilled knight of the order. He didn't have a golden sun on his chest, but he was close to receiving his rank. If luck would allow that they see more days after tonight. He gave an image of someone insecure, but only on the surface. Beneath was a shrewd and keen mind and muscle with mush skill within. His red hair was strapped in a short tail trough a slice at the top-back of his helmet and his choice of weapons were a sword and a shield.

" … how well can we be sure that killing the fiend would have any effect ?"

" You heard the Wisemen, brother. "; a third sarafan stepped from the dark. The entire party was trying to stay close but the shadows seemed to outnumber them tenfold.

Sister Eleanor Retenyah was a slender but strong woman in white armor engraved with silver chain, forming an X over her chest. She had no helmet and shiny black hair sloped around her head. A large two-handed ax occupied her swift arms.

" The very presence of the demon rains discord and illness upon us all. "; she whispered :" I put my trust in their words. "

" It's too late to doubt anyway Immargo. "; Benedict replied :" Even if it's a trick of the Lords of the Light, we have nothing to lose, save our lives. "

After that, silence took hold again. Perhaps he was too hard on the lad, Benedict thought. Fear was a natural response in a situation like this. Flies had come seeking the spiders, for the spiders' had reined long enough. If there was any justice in this world, the Lords of the night would die tonight.

He led his eight friends trough the darkness-infested corridors of the castle. The sanctuary of the clans. A place known well to anyone. It was a place you went when you sought damnation. Only a few windows stood here and there and not a single torch nor candle burned along the walls. Fortunately their eyes were sharpened during their long service, and they also developed other senses to detect oncoming attackers. They needed every edge in here, deep within the residence of Kain and his six apocalyptic sons. The names of the fiends burned with anger in his heart. Raziel, Turel, Dumah, Rahab, Zephon and Melchiah. Bringers of despair. Even if he and his companions should die tonight, their act would go in books and legends. At least one of these fiends was bound to fall.

This thing… this Empire was a blight upon the world. The power of the undead lord and his children was threatening to suck the life dry. And the Sarafan Order was the last line of defense left between the living and the undead. The Sarafan… More like a resistance, small enough to be a rebellion, but they could not falter even in the face of annihilation. It had been ten long years since the last nation fell to the Hunger Armies of Kain, and since then, all who opposed it had been swept away before it's might. The Order was crumbling. They had lasted far longer then any other, but after a decade of constant defeats, their own days were numbered. Only one more reason to embark on this quest.

A sudden yell made the fighting reflex jumps like a bolt of lightning in Ben's chest. They had been attacked. The cowardly monster crept on them from behind and surprised them. The first brother the fiend fell on hardly had time to scream and warn the rest before the thing plunged its unholy jaws in the man's neck to gorge his thirst. All of them moved forth and attacked, but the creature was swift and elusive. It was using the resident darkness as its ally. Alas, alone, it was no match to a band of the greatest living sarafan, and Immargo's blade got red with vampire blood. The monster shrieked and withdrew, trying to flee back into the pit he crawled from, but Brother Andar got him with a crossbow, and ended his foul existence on the spot. A direct shot to the heart.

" Well done. "; Ben said, tapping Andar on the shoulder

" Let's hope this one had no chance to inform the others. "; Andar spoke back

" To the contrary. "; Ben said :" We can only hope that it did, and be prepared for what is to come. "

" Ben ! Over here !"; Elanor shouted

As they ran over to her, they found brother Angus Tataran bleeding on the ground. The right side of his neck was spilling out a puddle of blood.

" K…kill me… "; he cried, desperately holding for the wound :" I… don't want… to come back… "

All of them gathered around gazing with sadness at their lost brother.

" Light embrace you, brother… "; Ben whispered and lunched his halberd.

It tore the metal of the chest plate and easily pierced directly trough Angus's heart. Swift and merciful. Ben sighed after he pulled the halberd out. Angus was not the first, and he would not be the last, but somehow that didn't help him much.

Offering a silent prayer, the eight remaining sarafan continued their progress trough the pits of this hellish place. The last strands of light seemed to be devoured the more they would descend, but from then on they used torches. All things considered, their presence had been detected. Speed was their sole ally now, and darkness was only slowing them down. There was no more point to deny them selves the bliss of flame.

At last they'd reached the throne room. A huge chamber with the seat of evil. A spiked throne of gilded stone, was embracing a gray broken column on a huge black and white marble pedestal, and eight more pillars surrounded it behind, in same state as the center one. A long red carpet was leading straight to the throne, bidding them welcome.

The chamber was huge, made of pure brown rock, hard enough to last as long as the mountain they extracted it from. Two lines of fat poles supported the high ceiling that seemed to vanish, replaced by the night, like it was a sponge for the black sky. As they entered, a few barely heard squeaks greeted them, and a few wings flapped away trough some crevice, known only to their owner. All was still.

As they slowly and cautiously proceeded trough the chamber, a rumbling sound echoed and a heavy iron grate cut off their exit, descending from above. It just slid there in a loud bang, hitting the floor, thus locking the pray within this cage. Instantly, they formed a circle and started to look around, to the edge of the ring of darkness and torchlight. Departing here alive was not a thing they hoped for, from the beginning.

Torches on the walls burst in flames, illuminating the brown chamber, and about thirty feet before them, posing in front of the throne, stood a dark figure, grinning malignantly at them trough sharp fangs.

The creature's eyes burned with white flames like diamonds, black hair was falling down around his head to his neck and he wore a tight leather outfit, almost an armor, completed with a brown half cape hanging from his right shoulder to his hips, bearing the sigil of his clan.

Raziel was cross armed, directing icy stares to the eight humans before him :

" Welcome. "; he spoke amused, like a cat before a wounded mice

" Cursed be you and your master !"; Ben snarled :" And all your kin !"

" Let's attack, Ben !"; Eleanor spoke :" We mustn't waist time !"

" No !"; he replied :" There are trap coils around !"; he frowned at Raziel :" Where are your demonic thrall, fiend ?"

" Not here. "; Raziel replied politely :" Oh, come now, sarafan ! You've made it ! You've fought your way here and succeeded ! A most valiant deed… Exactly what we were looking for. Isn't that right, my brothers ?"

At once other monsters came out of nothing. Raziel's brothers, demonized and hungry, but still on a proper distance. The circle was complete ; All of Kain's sons were here, surrounding the band of still determined humans.

" Be careful, my sons. "; a whisper echoed throughout the chamber :" They must be taken alive. "

" Seven of them, actually. "; Turel smiled wickedly as he beheld the eight Sarafan more closely.

" Here are the rules, hopeless ones… "; Rahab giggled :" First one to die, signals the end of the game !"

Benedict wasn't about to take it any more :

" Forth, my brothers, and may the Light shield our souls !"

As one, all of them together lunched at the surrounding fiends and a great battle ensued. The sarafan were clashing the Night lords as fierce as the Night lords were clashing them and the noise of steal and screams of rage burned, storming throughout the huge chamber. The carpet was not the only red thing now. Blood begun to stain the stone in dark crimson ponds and and re-paint the wals in chaotic splashes. And the Sarafan started to grow tired. They started to lose their edge.

The Lords of the night took over the lead. Raziel and Turel were untouchable, Dumah and Rahab were unstoppable and Melchiah and Zephon almost toyed with the sarafan.

It was than, when the vampires were at their most confident, that Benedict took out the silvery silken pack, given to him by the Wisemen. Their sole hope and chance, was contained within a sack of black powder, about a pound in weight. The others surrounded him, cutting him off from the fray, giving him protection he needed, and he used an instant of safety to hurl the entire bag at the nearest flaming torch.

It caught fire and at once producing a blast of heat, smoke and light which bloomed and rushed at them in a split second. Wind and flame knocked them off their feet, and the blast of light forced all present to shield their eyes as armored figures crashed to the floor in thunderous noise. A powerful bang like that of a thousand thunders, shook the castle in its foundations, and after that insane instant, the silence took hold again.

Ben and the others rose to their feet, eyes wide, and hissing with rage and exhaustion. Blood was staining their blades and armor plates. Hands which held the hilts of swords and axes now shivered with strain. And realization took hold as hope turned to despair.

Six pairs of glittering eyes were grinning at them from the blackness of the burned section of the wall. The vampires stood in a half circle, surrounding a mighty figure with a blazing serpent-like sword, all of them facing the explosion. The master fiend had a long white hair, falling down to his back, strapped in a short tail the last few inches of its length, and his skin seemed like it was a sack of swamp water. Black trousers and a red half-cape were the only clothing he wore, and his face bore the mark of hell he crawled out from.

All seven of them were focusing their magic, and together they contained the explosion which was supposed to consume the entire room. Golden and brown fires were stopped within a bubble of dark magic originating from seven pairs of claws, and as the fire withdrew before the smoke, the spell expired and their hosts faced the visitors again.

" Enough games !"; Kain snarled and the force of the Night collapsed on the exhausted humans.

Despite it all, they still fought back. Benedict was spinning his halberd like a quarterstaff, his brothers and sisters were screaming defiance with their every breath, but still the darkness descended on his eyes, and Ben lost consciousness just in time to see his sister Adriah being neck broken.


	2. The Making

**Chapter one : The Making**

* * *

He awoke in darkness with blunt pain burning at the back of his head, serving as a dam for his thoughts and memories. Everything was foggy and bleary. As the image of his surroundings reached his awareness, his situation started to get clear. The chamber he was in was black and filled with moisture, except of the bars of blue light, dropping down to his left and emanating from a large ceiling grate. A small room with no apparent exit, occupied only by him and a few spiders crouching on their webs. It was a dungeon.

Ben tried to move, but he couldn't. His wrists and ankles were shackled. Chains tightened him with icy grip, and cold stone blocks in the wall seemed frozen to his spine. Rusty manacles scratched his skin, trying to chew it away, but all those things were nothing next to the pain of memories. He had lost. And worse yet, he brought his brethren down with him. They were lost souls now, soon to be outcasts from the light.

It angered him. Rage gave him strength. With every ounce of strength he had, he tried to brake free, but in the end of a long exhausting effort and tearing growls, he fell back against the wall, dangling in his shackles.

" My mercy is not something to be squandered. "

Ben rose his sight. Before him was the devil himself, the undeniable Vampire Overlord Kain. Smiled and cross armed, his golden eyes beheld him somewhat intrigued. His infamous Soul Reaver was on his back, its energies and magic resting, out of wielding claws.

Come to think of it, Ben had never gotten so close to this creature before this. Now they stood almost a step away. And now that he was in the position to see him better, to observe him, he almost pulled back before his malice. The master vampire seemed sharper than a razor, with golden eyes and a strong chin. His demonically deformed skin only intensified the aura of dominance he transmitted to those around him. A lord in every sense, Ben shivered. A Night-lord. And with no apparent weaknesses.

But the Sarafan responded in kind. The glare he gave as his reply spoke more of his intentions than words.

Kain snorted and started to pace around the small dungeon :

" You've made a great effort to reach me, and now you have no words ?"

" Kill me already, fiend !"; he snarled :" I do not have to put up with your babble !"

Kain looked at him over his shoulder :

" What makes you think you have a choice in any faith I bring upon you ?"

" Do you expect me to welcome your judgment ?"; Ben snapped back, but it only seemed to amuse his host.

" Defy me if it makes you happy… "; Kain smiled :" but in the end it will come out to the same thing. "

Suddenly Ben's memories got more specific about the details of his previous battle. He and his brethren were taken alive… Seven of them, at least. For a moment he felt somewhat relieved and than he remembered who he was dealing with. There were things far worse than death, and Kain and his sons knew them by the score.

A shrieking sound stirred their silence, startling Ben in his thoughts and Kain turned his attention towards the newcomers ; a couple of shades that crawled to his presence. The creatures were dragging on their swollen bellies and had only diamond-glowing eyes and glittering fangs visible. Flesh made of darkness seemed like it was inflamed by it, and they resembled gusts of black smoke more than actual creatures. They were like shades themselves. Kain bended down and petted them, at which they responded in a pleased squeak. They seemed as much intelligent as animals.

Ben frowned confused for a moment. He'd never seen this kind of vampires before. The features of all six clans were well known to every Sarafan. This was a new bread. It must have been. Something even more horrible, the Empire waited to unleash upon the world.

But no. With a sharp twist of his claws, Kain broke the creatures' necks. It was a swift death and the two shadows dispersed into amber dust and ash.

" As you can see, "; Kain started :" not even we are immune to the corruption. My poor children started to change, to degenerate. It won't be long before the clans become packs of wild animals, and the land degrades into hell's front yard. Most inappropriate. "

Ben grinned :

" I'd say you are merely taking your true forms. "; and added more seriously :" If you wish an end to the seeping corruption, sacrifice your self. You know it will restore the land. "

At once Kain found himself before Ben squeezing his thought in an iron grip. Ben felt his neck cracking under the pressure :

" To sacrifice for whom, human ?"; Kain asked coldly :" You ? Your like ? Who are you to ask such a thing from me ?"

He released him and the Sarafan coughed a few times gasping for that moldy dungeon air :

" …light's servant… "; he whispered :" … while you are an unnatural thing. An evil that shouldn't exist. "

" But I do exist !"; Kain snarled :" I have the right to it as much as you. Your precious Light doesn't care. Higher forces wouldn't allow me to be, if it is against their code !"

" Lies. "; Ben spoke :" Lies for which I have no more patience ! Pass your judgment on me, Night lord. I am prepared to face it. "

His anger evaporated and Kain chuckled, amused :

" I'll be the judge of that. First you will listen, Sarafan, and learn the darkness better. "

Ben growled defiantly. If he could though he would plug his ears.

" I'll spill both of our futures. "; Kain resumed :" I have foreseen it, and it is not pretty. All things in the world will wither and die. Vampire and human alike. But I have a way out. You. We have selected you and your six companions to carry us to the most distant corners of the seven sides of the world. You'll rest by day and travel by night. You'll blind whatever eyes cross your path. And when your mission is complete, when you hide us where no living soul can reach, you'll kill yourself and thus mark the end of corruption. "

Ben just spat before Kain's feet :

" That's all the service you'll receive from me !"

Kain frowned and extended his red claw. A green flame glittered within it and a magic noose tightened around Ben's neck. He could barely see his eyes as the vampire stepped forth :

" If it makes you happy… Barer of the Seal. "

A scream of a man driven by pain joined six others from surrounding cells in the corridor, and their mixture pored out trough out the castle in a symphony.

* * *

Kain was sitting in his throne at the pillars and his six sons were before him. Seven Dumahim priests in black robs, and of ghastly zombie-like forms, bold wrinkled and skinny, stood week and exhausted at the middle of the chamber, around a big furnace, spewing flame and smoke. They were performing metal work, poring liquid silver and copper into molds, but what was draining all of their strength was the magic which they fused within the hot alloy. Once it hardened, each priest presented a round medallion still smoking hot from the unnatural fires of the clan's magic. The seven necklaces of black silver were round, each the size of a bigger coin, and each having a carved marking of shining copper engraved upon it ; a symbol of each clan.

As the vampire-priests knelt and presented their work, Raziel slowly paced along them observing the medallions, feeling the magical artifacts with his palm. For a moment he paused as he got to the one with his clan's symbol on it. Observing it a second longer, he nodded and turned to Kain :

" I could not have done better my self. " He said pleased.

" Thank you my lord. "; one of the priests spoke with a voice of illness and effort

Raziel took his medallion, and the others followed. The eldest priest brought Kain's to him and placed it over his knees as if giving him an offering. In exchange, Kain and his sons offered curved ritual daggers to the seven Dumahim priests, which they joyfully accepted, and promptly stabbed themselves upon them.

" It is not the end. "; Kain said as the Dumahim convulsed :" We must sleep through the ages that come, until our own returns. "

" The clans… will wait… for you… my lords…"; the eldest spoke before dying on the floor.

Kain rose from his throne with the glittering medallion dangling from his red and black claw. By now, all the clans followed the example of the present priests, and the final peaces of his design were clicking into place. Along with them, far at the other corner of the room, were bonds of wooden planks and iron, which held the seven captured humans. They didn't struggle any more, now broken by torture, but still, the magic that was about to take place was unpredictable and the bonds were a necessary precaution.

Each of the remaining vampires, came to his selected human and placed the necklace around his or her neck. And the spell took hold. Thunders tore the murky sky, and the castle danced on the land's trimmers. Wind cried of forgotten sins and the waters of the land boiled with ice. The night was reeking of danger and rage, as the last vampires perished from the world, but it was not the end.

It was then that the captive humans felt the true despair. The Night lords were no longer with them, they were within them. Their mangled will swiftly succumbed to the seven greater spirits, and they tore free of their shackles with unnatural strength. The only seven creatures remaining within the castle were nothing more than shells, suits to be worn by Lords of the Night.

As dark residue of this act subsided, Bearers of the Seven Seals stepped out into the night, led by a man once known as Benedict, now also the wielder of the Soul Reaver.


	3. Accidents happen

**Chapter two ; Accidents happen**

Lazaruss :"_ To justify my self, I'd have to point out that I don't know my history all that well. If you notice anything that doesn't add up, please let me know and I'll correct it. I'd also point out that I don't speak German, so you'll find me improvising. And of course, some text here might be slightly… racist… so I apologize in advance. Thanks._

* * *

Times fly faster then pen can record, good as well as bad, and what was once a common terror became a danger left far behind. Fearful men would still speak of vampires raiding a village here and there, a gossip over a glass of ale in the local tavern, or a story for wide-eyed youngsters around the roaring fireplace. But everyone knew by the Sun which had at last returned to the world, and by the land which begun to heal beneath the clear sky, that the Night-lodrs were no more.

And praises were sung to the bold Sarafan, and thanks were sobbed in the dawn, and cries of joy and the laughter of children running over fresh green fields was never without thanks for the freedom from the undead.

And so it was that the new world was born from the ashes of the old one, and what had once been a threat for all of mankind became folklore, a twisted version of the true story, of how the brave heroes gave their lives for their fellow men, and killed the Night-lords in their den. And that story too grew more pale, the more the years passed. Eventually, few would still even mention a creature of the night, and none but the wisest could remember their names. No one remembered those times, because no one wanted to remember, and all the old fears finally faded into the mists of time.

Even the order of the noble Sarafan retreated to the shadow of history, for their night watch was at last done. A few would still appear in glistening armor, golden sun pure upon their chests as a symbol of legend, and where they would appear people would cheer and greet them with gratitude and awe. But the long night had passed, and all the unnatural evils were gone, and the last of the Sarafan knights retreated out of sight, and than out of memory.

Ages came and went, and the evil of man became the only true fear. For men had multiplied like a horde of locus, and mastered even the lands which were wild and untouchable. Ancient forests were swallowed by buildings of stone and steal, science and technology replaced the mystic arts, and old ways of bloody rituals gave way to new religions of love and tolerance.

But trough all that progress, men became bold and arrogant, gods of the earth and all which their sight could grasp, and much of the land suffered under their advance. Many wonders of the ancient world were forgotten and lost, entire species of creatures erased from existence, and barely a tear was shed in the name of it all. Yet the greed of men was insatiable and their lust for even more power caused many wars amongst them.

And thus came this war ; The Second Great War of men which ignited hatred across the world, and the new invading power began to grow and take form under the banner of a Nazi Cross. Men stood under that banner and killed other men, and other men killed them, with weapons of iron and earth powders which grew more deadly and more horrible by the day.

For five long years the power of Hitler spread across Europe, and all over the free world, the fear of Germany chilled like late frost. But the world it self would not be enough for such a man. Under the Nazi Cross, the armies of Hitler marched over the lands seeking the forgotten powers, legends, myth, and any artifact which could lead them to the proof of their Aryan superiority. Any work of the ancients, peaces of puzzles, scattered clues to the hidden past were secretly gathered to once more unlock that power in the hands of the Nazi.

And so does this story begin…

* * *

Herr Herbert Shtrouber entered a wealthy chamber, decorated in all the splendors of the conquering army. Fabulous commandeered art work, busts of the Fuhrer in black marble, animal hides, red flags with the swastika... It was truly a chamber fit for a Nazi monarch, though a bit too dark for his liking. The only light was a stone fireplace and an occasional thunder through the high windows.

It was raining outside. 'Shatto Verboten' at the Austrian border, nestled on the slopes of the Alps, was hardly reachable to any, let alone those without the proper documentation. The security was tight and armed to the teeth due to the nature of the resident visitors, one of them, a man now before him in a large chair of brown leather, placed next to the fireplace.

Herbert made his presence known by a slight cough. He had been a butler of the castle for ten years now, and he knew his manners well. Short blond hair with a bit of gray showing off, was neatly combed back. A silver tray with a white envelope on it balancing on his fingertips and his blank expression gave away his professionalism more than his black butler coat, a bit of white shirt and a tie. He offered the silver tray with the note to the man in the chair.

The person was casually reading Austrian newspaper when Herbert came in. The slender man had a red sateen robe and a warm pair of slippers. Gray hair was thin around his head, and his hooked nose was decorated by a pair of gilded spectacles.

As Herbert coughed, the man tossed a gaze at the tray. Folding the paper to his knees, he took the slim envelope and opened it. After a few minutes of reading, his calm facade completely vanished. The contents of the letter made him grimace in anger. Practically jumping up, he tossed the note into the fire and snarled :

" Too late ?"; he shouted to himself :" We were too late ?"

" What are you so upset with, Klaus ?"; another voice came from the entrance.

The man named Klaus turned towards the speaker. It was a man a bit older than him, with considerably more weight, and a black wooden walking stick with a silver handle in the shape of a bear's head. He too wore a red house robe, and had a golden chain emerge from it to his pocket, where his pocket-watch rested. His bald head had only a few white strands of hair on sides and at the back, and he seemed annoyed and cunning all the time. It seemed like the newcomer had just appeared in the room.

Klaus frowned in his general direction :

" The girl, Von Zitter !"; he spoke through his teeth :" The girl beat us to it !"

The bulky man, Von Zitter, dropped his gaze to the hide of a dead tiger on the floor. Animal's glassy eyes were reflecting the fires in the fireplace and his bare white jaws were so life like they seamed ready to speak.

" Did you hear what I said ?"; Klaus shouted :" Someone else is already digging on the location !"

Braun Von Zitter looked back at the other man. He was quite nervous. Quite useful. Quite a fool. A pity they had to put up with him, but they needed his knowledge. No one else was so familiar with ancient texts and solving the puzzles of the ages. But when it came to matters like this, Klaus was as dumb as an infant.

" Calm your self Klaus. "; Braun spoke :" You say this woman found the site before us. Does she have any clue as to what might be buried there ?"

" Have you bean listening when I detailed my find ? No one knows ! I was the only one smart enough to unravel the lies of history. "

" If you did, she could have too. "

" No ! It's impossible. Our army took all the relics and documentation. The Fuhrer is not a fool to let clues to his victory lie around for someone else to find, and besides, I am the only one who saw the connection. The girl must have found the site by sheer force of luck. "

Braun frowned as he got to the drink cabinet. Luck was a dangerous and tricky thing. He was poring two glasses of scotch. Four years have passed since they went putting the bits and peaces together, and now by a simple accident, it was all compromised.

Frau Barker was a skilled and intelligent archeologist. A woman of great renown over the sees. In a way, it seemed only logical to cross path with her sooner or later. Just last year she'd discovered a bunch of new sites in the Valley of the Kings, and rumor had it she even gave a hint or two to the discovery of Troy in Turkey. A pity none of her colleagues took her seriously, mostly due to her claims of some mythical lost civilization, or she might get some credit for all her finds. British were fools.

And now, the very ridiculed, but renowned girl was interfering with all their hard work. God would know how she managed to get the permit for the excavation in Africa, especially now when most British funds were focused on their military. Clearly, she was more resourceful than she seamed. It was a fine mess, but Braun had a cool head for these sorts of things. He was not the project leader just for his rank.

" So, frauline Barker is digging in Africa, "; he sighed :" at the authority of the British museum ? Strange. I've always thought of her too young to pose any kind of threat. "

" Obviously we've underestimated her. "; Klaus said :" And now she risks to ruin everything. "

A thunder cracked trough the sky and its boom shook the wet window in its frame. It seemed that the rain was coming to an end.

" What is life without a few risk, my friend ?"; Braun smiled and turned with two filled glasses in his hands :" She is not the only one who has men in the Colonies. "

" But if she should find… "; Klaus started

" … we shall retrieve. "; Braun cut him off :" And frau Barker will learn too late the price of meddling. "

He offered Klaus the other glass and smiled :

" After all, "; he continued :" Africa IS a dangerous place. Let her do all the work, and after that… well… Accidents happen… "

Herbert the butler, nodded as he received the reply note, and clapping his wooden heals, turned and left fot the wire room. Klaus giggled softly trough his nose, and he and Braun joined their glasses in a toast.

* * *

" Ms. Barker !"; someone yelled :" Ms. Barker !"

A slender girl with straight black hair falling down to her shoulders raised her brown eyes from her charts. She was about 35, in green outfit of pale shorts and a coat, white explorer's hat, and a bit worn out brown leather boots. A red silk scarf was tucked in her tightly buttoned coat, protecting her neck from gusts of hot desert winds. The wind was particularly strong that day, and the map she was studying had to be held down by many stones, spread over a crude wooden table.

She smiled at the running man. It was Nm'bopo, one of the natives, and a personal friend from a few similar expeditions on the continent. He was a black Zulu warrior, with bold head, in a plain crude leather vest and dusty pants. He was barefooted and around his neck was a necklace of a simple cord and a peculiar beastly fang decorated with short red feathers. Parrot's feathers or some such. Nm'bopo was in charge for the excavation. He was monitoring the workers, mostly the Arabs from the eastern parts, in white robes and turbans wrapped around their heads.

Whenever it was not an official call, Nm'bopo was deep somewhere within the tropical jungle with a spear and a leather shield, bare to the waist, staying away from people. He loved Africa and her wilderness, and he didn't feel comfortable with lots of people around. Except when she would stop by.

" Ms. Barker. "; he said as he stopped before the table. He was not even winded from his running.

" What is it, Bo ?"; she asked him

She called him that since forever, it seemed. It wasn't hard for her to remember his real name, but this nickname was made simply out of friendship, and Nm'bopo liked it too.

About five years ago, on her first expedition in the south of Nile he and she got in a bit of trouble and he practically carried her on his back as they fled before the raging natives who chased them out of their tribe's territory. Since than they got more than friends, and whenever she'd visit Africa, the two of them would always thread together. Unfortunately he'd never leave the continent, so they'd always have to say goodbye at the airport, not knowing when they'd see each other again.

How he always knew when she was arriving, she had no idea, but this time as always, he was waiting for her when she got off her plane.

" I've just bean to area 41 !"; he said quickly :" We think we've found the entrance !"

A smile of excitement blossomed on Eidolon's face. She could barely contain her excitement :

" Fetch Jack and Yrona !"; she said :" Tell them to get there as soon as possible. "

Running over the desert sands, Eidolon had to hold her safari hat, not to lose it on the wind. She wouldn't be without her hat in a dessert, particularly during the dry season. African sun was a killer after damp British climate. But it didn't meter to her now. If she'd lose her hat, she wouldn't stop for it even if it should simply land at her feet. This was too important.

This region of the Libyan dessert east of Cairo was near a thick tundra west on the horizon and bordered by mountains at the far south. The excavation sight had 53 areas and around that terrain were white tents for diggers, archaeologists and other people in charge of the works. The British museum gave her and her team funds for only so many men and days, and she had to beg even for that.

But now, success was at hand. She was about to present proof to the world of a civilization skipped in all the history books. Her theories would be accepted for facts at last.

As she got to area 41, diggers and workers made way for her, giving her room. A hole beneath the earth, was exposing a stone-made door frame, still half buried at the bottom of the digger's pit. It was MAN-made ! She didn't get too close yet though. She had to wait for Jack and Yrona. But she had time to observe the carvings and she almost laughed with joy.

" What is this all about ?"; Jack spoke, catching his breath after running here

He was in the similar green safari outfit with a white hat though his short pants were a bit longer, and his lengthy blond hair was fastened in a ponytail. Instead of boots he had plain rough shoes and a pair of white socks. His coat was unbuttoned, exposing a matching green shirt and his green eyes were quenched from the bright tropical sun, reaching even through the hem of his round safari hat.

Yrona was next to him. Unlike Jack and Eidolon, she was a geologist. It was her job to determine the exact age of the relics by the rock compounds in the resident soil. Her hair was brown and her skin copper, the kind of color that would make a man's eyes linger on her. Since her family was Asian in origin, her appearance resembled people from that territory. She too was in a green outfit with a safari hat, though her sleeves were folded up all the way to her shoulders and under her unbuttoned coat was a simple green sweat-shirt, also damp with sweat.

The two of them were accompanying Eidolon on this expedition, and they were all friends since high school. The only thing they didn't share was Eidolon's theories about the 'mythical lost civilization' she was constantly after.

" Here !"; Eidolon pointed on the entrance.

The thing was still half obscured by the dark sands, but the top part that was sticking out of the bottom of the digger's hole, gapped with an assaulting darkness of its interior. And most importantly of all, the 'door-frame' made of square blocks of stone was inscribed with big carved markings of an unknown scripture. The work was beautiful.

" I have never seen this kind of letter before… "; Jack inspected it closer

" If it is a letter. "; Yrona was skeptical

" Why don't we have a look inside ?"; Eidolon grinned at them, too awed to pay attention to Yrona's doubts :"What do you say ?"


	4. Hidden

**Chapter three ; Hidden**

The air seemed dense within the shaft, or maybe it was just the effect the light of their torches had on the unstirred dark. Eidolon, Jack and Yrona paced trough the empty cavern carefully, for snakes, scorpions and other unpleasant creatures had a tendency to reside within such a place.

As soon as they slid down the shaft, Yrona checked the interior :

" A natural made cave. "; she spoke to them :" A crevice in layer of clay beneath sands. "

" The entrance isn't natural. "; Jack spoke holding the torch

Behind them, Nm'bopo held the other torch, leading the company of four diggers, in case that there would be any need for more work. The cave was dark, hot and dry, with draft streaming through it towards the freshly opened shaft. Its ceiling was high enough for torches to be lifted all the way up, and the air smelled strongly of dust and mold, singing of the ages that have passed, while fleeing trough the exit.

The diggers were nervous, jumping and twitching like frightened mice on the smallest noise, their eyes darting around rapidly. But Eidolon and her friends were too astounded to notice. Thought the cavern was empty, they expected to find something within it. The entrance it self was a beautiful find, and they even had a word on the subject of somehow taking it with them, instead of simply taking photos of it.

But the more they would explore the cavern, the smaller did their enthusiasm become. Though it was very long and branching off in several places, the cavern was as hollow as any hole within the earth. Eidolon was slowly losing hope, though it was still too soon to give up. This was supposed to be her big find ? It was not fair to have it turn out like this.

At once, one of the diggers screamed, making the others turn towards him. His wide eyes dropped to the flour where a black scorpion ran, skittering into the dark. And a big black angry bruise appeared on his foot. Without a word he started shaking, his eyes rolling up into his eyelids, and than he collapsed on the ground, giving off a few more twitches before stilling completely. He was dead.

Nm'bopo used the hilt of his torch to crush the bug, while Yrona fell on Jack's chest, hiding before the sight.

" I don't know how I missed it, Ms. Barker. "; Nm'bopo spoke :" I was constantly minding every corner. It couldn't have gone pass me. "

" We all make mistakes, Bo. "; she told him shaken, swallowing hard to calm herself.

" Just try not to make it again. "; Jack said in a similar condition.

" It is cursed. "; one of the diggers spoke bringing disorder into the group :" We should not have come here… "

" Oh please. "; Jack spoke skeptically. It made him sound far more resolved this time :" If this bug would signal a curse, the dessert would be the lowest ring of hell, by the number of them. "

" Do not mock the power of the dessert, sahib. "; the digger replied frightened :" Sand remembers long after books forget. "

Jack just rolled his eyes and focused on comforting Yrona. Nm'bopo selected two diggers to carry the body back out, and give it a proper burial. He than came next to Eidolon who was a bit further off, trying to catch glimpses of what lay in the dark ahead.

" Something isn't right here, Ms. Barker. "; he whispered :" That scorpion seamed to have come out of nowhere. "

" It's ok, Bo. "; she faced him :" No one's blaming you. "

" No, Ms. Barker. It's not that. The floor in this place lay undisturbed for ages. I would have seen signs of its nest, or some tracks in the dust. But there was nothing. This cave doesn't feel right. "

She laughed half loud while continuing to let her curiosity guide her :

" Now, don't start with the curse thing too. There's a perfectly logical explanation for this. It was probably just… My god ! Jack ! Yrona ! Over here !"

She ran off, followed by Nm'bopo and the rest of them. The two diggers that remained to carry the body of their dead friend were left behind, and they were taking it by feet and shoulders. They had one torch with them, but as they turned towards the entrance, the draft abruptly changed its course. The two men stopped frozen in their tracks as the wind now blew in their faces, moaning in a tone remarkably alive-like.

As Jack and Yrona caught up with Eidolon, they came to a stunned halt. This section of the cave was not natural. It was a circular room with seven crude torch holders, holding torches long decayed into sand. Only a few inches of the hilt would remain here and there. And on the floor was a round stone mural with a carving of a six-pointed star. It stretched over the entire floor about twelve to fifteen feet in diameter, and in the center of it was a big symbol that seemed like a man with four arms. Or were the upper two wings ? On each point of this star were also symbols, but unrecognizable, curved like roots of a tree. All the runes and gliphs were glittering in silver on their torchlight.

" It's beautiful. "; Eidolon said :" Look how well it's preserved… "

" I have never seen the like… "; Jack said slowly

He was about to touch the carving, but suddenly a scream from the outer tunnels made them all freeze in their tracks. The two diggers that were supposed to carry the body of their dead friend away, came running and shouting, almost colliding with Jack and Yrona on their way here. Nm'bopo managed to stop them before they would do any damage, but the force of men on the run made all three of them fall back and hit one of the six surrounding symbols near its peak in the star drawing.

" What is the meaning of this, men ?"; Jack almost shouted

" Ghost, sahib !"; One of them spoke :" This place is cursed ! We… "

Before he could finish the sentence, a sound of grinding stone resonated around the room. Only than did they notice that when Nm'bopo and the two diggers fell down, they had actually pressed the symbol like a button, triggering some ancient mechanism.

Floor started to shake and they backed away, cautious of cavings. Some of the ancient torch holders fell out of the walls followed by thin streams of sand and dust that pored trough cracks and holes. At the point where everyone were scared and confused, the center of the star with the symbol of the winged man opened and a big pedestal lifted it self out of the hole in the ground. The ancient mechanism subsided and all went quiet again.

Eidolon, Jack and Yrona were the first to get to their senses. Slowly approaching the pedestal, they observed the treasure it held upon it. A skeletal corpse. They all gaped once they realized that it was clothed in a medieval armor, now all rusty and dented by time. This whole room was thousands of years old, and they were looking at a medieval knight from fifteenth or sixteenth century.

" It's… impossible !"; Jack uttered

Though only brown bones remained, some things were plain and obvious. For one, it was a female knight, considering the shape of the chest plate. Rust still didn't eat all the traces of silver from her armor, nor did the dents erase all the strange markings and letters from the metal surface. The body was laid on her back, with arms, now only bony fingers, crossing on the chest. She was remarkably preserved and never before have they seen her like.

" There must be an explanation… "; Yrona spoke, still a bit shaken :" This female knight got lost and… "

" In Africa ?"; Eidolon asked her dubious

" Than what do you suggest ?"; she asked her

" I suggest, "; Eidolon said :" we take her out of here, and study her on the… wait… What's this ?"

She reached to the armor and very gently lifted a leather cord that went around the corpse's neck. The room was dark and the thin leather cord was barely visible. A necklace. And the hands, or what was left of them, were hiding and holding the medallion closed on the chest plate.

Nm'bopo frowned. Something in the fact that she saw it puzzled him. At the time he couldn't quite put his finger on it, and he had more pressing matters, like settling the two deranged diggers down.

Jack and Yrona stood next to Eidolon, all of them surrounding the stone pedestal with the corps of the knight. Hesitating briefly, Eidolon gently grabbed hold of the corps' arms and with some soft cracking, opened them to reveal the necklace ; a round medallion of blackened silver with a pattern of well-polished copper running over it. It was the size of a bigger coin. The pattern it self was ambiguous, but clearly the same one that was pressed to trigger the secret mechanism.

" We must get out of here, Sahib. "; the frightened digger urged nervously from the back :" There is evil in this place that should be left alone. "

But the three Europeans didn't hear him. Yrona and Jack were studying the armor and the body. Jack was trying to determine any similarities with armors from other periods, and Yrona was trying to get a chunk of stone from the pedestal, for later analysis. That had to be done with extra care, not to make a dent at something like this.

And as for Eidolon… Her eyes were fixed on the knight's skeleton. She suddenly became aware of nothing but her own heartbeats. The medallion glittered in the torch-suppressed dark like a thing of priceless beauty, the proof of her claims of the lost civilization. But it was somehow more than that. It was very cold all of the sudden and somewhere in the back of her mind, fear started to resurface again, though something blocked it from her awareness and she couldn't recognize it for what it was. Her thoughts were spinning over every inch of the small disk on a leather cord. She was almost terrified of it, and than again, inescapably drawn to it. She wanted to take it. Suddenly, she didn't care about the knight, or the armor, or any other thing in this whole place. The medallion was calling to her longingly, almost by her name, causing her trembling fingers to slowly release the skeletal arms and go for it…

A rumble made it all go away in a snap, and Eidolon became aware of Yrona saying something… What did she say ? It sounded like…

" Woops !"; Yrona shouted as a large chip of the crude stone pedestal cracked broken under her chisel.

But it wasn't the cause of the rumble. Now missing a sizable peace, the pedestal was lighter and the difference i weight triggered another mechanism. And the entire room started groaning in shakes and trimmers.

" Everybody out now !"; Jack shouted

The two diggers ran first, shouting about ghosts, and the rest weren't far behind. Eidolon was still confused, like her thoughts were somewhere far away, but she reached out and took Nm'bopo's hand, almost letting him pull her to reality. After that she just ran as the cave shook, collapsing behind their stride in a tremendous noise. There was no sight of others, just Nm'bopo, and all she could do was to follow his silhouette, flying on wings of fear.

Finally the two of them jumped out to the heat of the day, followed by a cloud of exploding dust and the horrific rumble finally ceased.

Razing her head from the sand, and coughing some out, Eidolon tried to still her beating heart. That had been... too close. Far too close… As she looked around, she saw Yrona and the diggers that went in, safe, but suddenly she realized that Jack wasn't there. Yrona seemed to have the same realization instantaneously. Abruptly, she forced herself to her feet and gazed at the entrance shaft that still spewed thick clouds of dust.

" …Jack… "; she whispered horrified

" We… we must get him out of there. "; Eidolon shivered, her eyes wide :" We can't just… "

Coughing came from within the shaft, cutting her off.

" Jack !?"; Yrona shouted jumping :" Jack, can you… "

" No need… "; his answer came from within the cave

Slowly dragging himself out, he emerged through the curtain of dust clouds, winded and grinning like a loon. He was all yellow and gray with sand that covered him completely, and there was trickle of blood down the corner of his lip. And than they saw why he had fallen behind ; Over his shoulder was a bunch of old bones held together only by their armor. He'd saved the knight from being lost to them, and was carrying it like a sack on his back. But all his mishandle and damage he may have caused to this relic never reached his friends.

" You bastard !"; Yrona shouted at him :" Do you realize how close you came to killing yourself !?"

" Don't you ever do something like that again !"; Eidolon snarled at him :" Do you hear me !? Not for me ! Not for the bloody Atlantis ! Not for anything !"

Jack just groaned, dusting himself off a bit and brushin the blood off his lips with his knuckle.

" Well, if you two are done thanking me, "; He spoke annoyed :" I think I will go and take a nice hot bath… "

He just dropped his load of armored bones at their feet and left them gaping after him.


	5. Stirred

**Chapter four : Stirred**

* * *

She was running. She couldn't remember why or from what, but she knew she couldn't stop. She didn't even dare to look behind as she pressed on through dark corridors of an underground cave. She had to escape before he'd catch her. He… ? Who was he ? Who was she ? She didn't remember and trying would be a waste of valuable time, but above all she knew that if he'd catch her and take her in his arms, her worse fear would come to pass.

Abruptly she turned around the next corner - not a corner really, just a turn in an endless cave – and faced a man she knew to be dead. The digger smiled at her as scorpions crawled over him in waves. Every inch of his flesh was swollen with scorpion stings and he rocked back and forth on the rock he was sitting on. He still had a brown turban, and wore a torn sheet of cloth for his garments, and one golden tooth sparkled amidst the crooked jaw, nestled within the smile that leaked thin white spit down his chest :

" Welcome… "; he wheezed ;" … mistress. "

She screamed. With a violent jump she almost ripped her bed sheet in two. Her tent was cold and mostly dark, but her face was still bathed in glistening sweat. Weather was shifty tonight. Eidolon made a few large sighs, almost gulping for air, and than she placed a palm over her face, vividly relieved. A nightmare. It had only been a nightmare.

The tent was made of white cloth, big and spacey, an entire room with its flaps closed and a skinny light whispering from the lantern hooked on a peg in a wooden supporting pole. Due to the plentiful pacing, sand was now covering the red carpet that was placed on the floor. Next to her simple bed – a green rag stretched hanging over a support of planks - a work table and a night cabinet with a washstand seemed almost too civilized. Jack and Yrona had tents like this one too, but each of them had it set in their own way.

She was still sweating, despite the chill, and she realized that her sheets were dampened by it. It was a most unpleasant dream that left her very disturbed, and… And she couldn't remember most of it. A glass of water was what she needed. Yes, some water and dry sheets, but when she went for it, she realized that she was not alone. Abruptly she backed away and pulled the cover over her again. She was in a night gown, but it had been a reflex.

" Guten abend, frau Barker. "; the man spoke from the shades

He was above average height, garbed in black and standing a few feet outside the net that surrounded her bed shielding her form insects. He chose to stand instead of sit, even though the chair was next to him, no doubt so he could look over her like that. The voice was somewhat amused, perhaps by her obvious fear, and with a distinct European accent. Other than that, she noticed that the stranger was in a tight black leather coat and with a hat that merged with the shadows around it. How did that outfit serve him on the African sun ?

" Who are you ?"; she asked trying not to sound intimidated :" How dare you enter my tent in this… "

" You've made a discovery today, frau Barker… "; the man smiled. Even through shades she could see his smile. God, how long was he standing there ?

" If you don't leave now, I'll call for my men to get you… "

A gun suddenly appeared in his hand, and her eyes widened. His hand was also in a black glove, and a bit of white cuff was peering from under the coat sleeve, but it was the black pistol that held her sight.

" Please do. "; the man smiled and his thumb unlocked the safety :" I do like to hear my victims scream before... Well… This is neither the time nor the place for such a talk. I just want one thing from you, and than I'm out of your pretty little hair. "

" Wh… "; she gulped in the face of the gun barrel :" what do you want ?"

" Your friend Jack recovered something from… "

Eidolon didn't see what happened next. One minute she was in her bed and the next, Yrona was yanking her by the hand, running with her among the tents. She vaguely remembered her favorite vase smashing on the man's head. Considering the nightmare and a stranger trying to kill her, she was pretty shaken, but an explorer/archaeologist sooner or later had to learn how to overcome herself and do what it took. So she forced her head to clear and normalized her breathing in determination.

" …on Eidolon !"; Yrona shouted to her. Not shouted really. More like a loud disturbed notice :" We have to get to Jack before they do !"

Surprisingly, Yrona was already dressed in her green outfit with no sleeves but this time she wore no hat. Maybe it got lost while they were running. And Eidolon was still in her night gown. And barefooted of all things. Barefooted !

" They ?"; she managed to ask

" I don't know how many, but they didn't look friendly to me. I don't think they have simply stopped by for tea. I was lucky to take a little walk when I saw them skulking. "

" He said… "; she started when they hid in the shadow of a tent, not far from Jack's :" …he wanted the medallion… "

Now, why had she thought that ? Te man said something that Jack recovered, nothing specific.

" Somehow I doubt they would just leave after they get it. "; Yrona spoke

" German !"; Eidolon almost shouted and than covered her mouth with both hands as a pair of strange shadows passed their hiding place, running. It made her want to smack herself for being stupid. As they were alone again, she whispered :" The man in my tent had a German accent. "

" Nazis !"; Yrona muttered with a curse :" What could they possibly want… "

Suddenly she went quiet as Jack fell to the ground in front of his tent, pushed with little care out into the sand. Another man with a gun came out, this one in a green uniform which was clearly that of a German army designs. Jack was still in his underwear, and a bit angry, but he was at least smart enough not to try anything foolish like he usually did. Eidolon prayed that it'd last.

" You know, her-Jack… "; the Nazi spoke to him :" I don't really believe in all these heretic nonsense, but since certain people ask… MOVE !"

" We have to help… "

" Sie est dort !" (There they are !)

The shout sent frost down Eidolon's spine instantly. That had certainly been meant for them. But her stun didn't last. She was not such a scary cat as she appeared. She had suffered angry tribes, venomous snakes, and all other dangers of this continent one could name ! She was on her own ground, unlike these men.

With a sudden leap she pushed herself out of the shadows and rolled over the sand in a brush, rising dust behind her like a smoke screen. Nm'bopo had taught her that trick. It was handy in such occasions, especially against arrows. Instantly an automatic rifle fired rapid shots, but she was already running the other way while the shooter was aiming at a cloud of sand on the wind, thinking it was her.

But not all went well. Yrona wasn't with her. God, she hoped she was alive and uninjured. That rifle had been firing in her direction. Worry and fear occupied her thoughts as she ran trough the dark camp, but she knew she couldn't go back for her. She didn't even see where she was going, but… She had to get to the diggers. She had to warn Nm'bopo. They were like lambs for the slaughter. Maybe together with them she'd be able to save…

Abruptly she realized she had just passed a large white canvas, and she looked around confused. This wasn't Nm'bopo's tent. Another large room of white sheets with numerous tables and boxes with tools. It was a study. And there in the center of it, on the largest table within, was the knight. Jack had placed her the way she was back in the caves, on her back with arms closed on her chest, shielding the… the medallion.

Why had she come here ? This wasn't that close to the digger's tents. She had to get to Nm'bopo and tell him… But something drew her sight. A flash of silver cracked through the knight's finger-bones. It was sparkling through, though it was dark all around her. The glow was growing. The whole medallion was growing… No, it wasn't that ; she was stepping closer to it. Forcing herself to stop, she turned for the exit, but footsteps in the sand dispersed all the intentions of getting out of this tent.

Before she knew, her back hit the edge of the table upon which the knight was placed. Too late did she remember not to turn, and the medallion was glittering before her eyes again, its light laughing at her through blackened bones. This close… This close she only felt more compelled to… to what ? Take it ? Is that what she had to do ? No… Jack and… She had to warn… to warn…

Her shaking hands reached, and took the arms of the knight, slowly removing them and exposing the thing. It was beautiful. She stared at it like in a dream, listening to footsteps drawing closer, but she was helpless to do anything about it. The necklace was all that metered, a black coin on a leather cord. It whispered to her in pleasant murmur she couldn't make out and the sound of it consumed the boots approaching along with any sort of fear. She reached for it, unaware of what she was doing and…

" Turn around slowly !"; A man said behind her in a strange but strong accent and the light of his flashlight flooded her back.

Eidolon felt strange. Like the past few minutes had all been a dim dream. Slowly she turned and faced the man behind her. It was astounding ; she could see him clearly like he was in daylight… No ; more than that. She heard noises she'd never heard before, as well as those she recognized, but the abundance was nowhere near confusing. Making them out seemed no trouble, but than she became aware of one sound beyond others. The beating of a heart…

" Well miss Barker… "

The rest of his words, she didn't hear. It was all trailing away amidst all other sensations. The dark was so pleasant all of the sudden and his flashlight was starting to get on her nerves. She could smell him distinctly even this far. He was sweaty from the trip, with a touch of kerosene from the plane, and a bit of tobacco, just enough to make out that he'd been in the presence of a smoker for a few minutes, two hours ago.

But the thing that really reeked was something else. Something beneath the surface. Something that pulsed and coursed and flowed trough… Something sweet and red… So sweet she felt her part and and drawl… It has bean thousands of years of hunger and the blood whispered strong and commanding. Commanding !

The man was slow. He was suddenly slower than her to that measure, she could walk up to him between his breaths and…

Before he finished the sentence she was grabbing his throat and lifting him above the ground ! With one hand ! Her grip was paralyzing him. Not to mention that a second ago, she had been ten paces away. But the thing that really took his heart, were her eyes, now bright red, almost glowing like amber. He tried to scream, but she just hurled him away and he crashed over the knight's corpse breaking the desk to peaces. As he opened his eyes, she was on top of him, with a snarl of a deranged beast stretching her jaws. With an effort he reached for his gun, but darkness befell him and the last thing he heard was his neck snapping.

She didn't know what'd happened. One moment she had been in a tent and now she was pacing trough the jungle. Pacing along like on a stroll. Stranger still, she was now clothed. This area was known to her. Just a bit to the south away from the camp. What was she doing here ? And why was she so calm all of the sudden, like everything was all right ? But she was all right, wasn't she ? What did the rest matter when she was strong and fearless like a ruler should be. Still, Jack and Yrona weren't safe, and after all, they were her friends. So first order of business was to stir things up. She had to get to Nm'bopo and…

" Ms. Barker… "

Speak of the devil… She turned and faced him with strange tranquility. He came from the woods behind her. In fact, he was still far away, but to her eyes it was a minor distance. She just stood there letting him come to her, though it took a while. No matter. Like she was in a hurry.

" Miss Barker… "; he had to catch his breath when he finally caught up with her, and as he saw her he bulged his eyes :" Are you hurt ?"

" No, Bo. "; she spoke in an irrelevant breath :" I take it, you know that our camp was intruded. "

" Ms. Barker... "

He came to her frowning and his fingers reached for her mouth. Despite the fact that it was inappropriate, she didn't back away. He couldn't harm her. But she did give him a warning frown in return. Nm'bopo passed his finger over her chin and presented it to her. In such a clear night, colors were flashing to her more vivid than ever, and this one she knew well. It was the crimson, sweet-smelling liquid stained all over her chin, mouth and cheeks, reeking with calmness and satisfaction.

At this display she too bulged her eyes wide like they were coffee cups. It was what remained… and the rest she… Like in a flash, she remembered what happened in the tent and it almost caused her to convulse. Falling in Nm'bopo's arms, she started to sob with all her eye's worth, constantly repeating :

" …It's madness …It's madness …It's madness … madness… "


	6. Chosen

**Chapter five ; Chosen**

* * *

" …_Chosen were and Chosen will be… "_; Eidolon was reading the inscription on the ancient stone doorway :" … _and Death's cup will overflow_… _To shade's heart across the black see… No help, no hope, no Light's blessed glow… "_

Night was still shrouding them, mustering over the land and the sole light originated from fires in the distant camp. Excavation area 41 and all others were deserted, though considering the situation, it would not be long before the diggers return to this place. Under new supervision, naturally.

But she had to come here. To the place where it all began. And as soon as she took one look at the door, she realized what the carvings meant. The madness that took her seemed to have withdrawn to some hidden corner of her soul, giving her freedom over herself again, but she knew it was only a temporary relief.

She wanted to get rid of it. The medallion was still dangling on a cord around her neck, a black silver disk with a bright copper line, infusing her with such power she was afraid of herself. At the same time she was ecstatic. Something was changing within her, making her stronger, more focused, and forceful. The colors of the world were so clear and distinct, she almost felt like she had been blind all her life, until now. And if she'd focus hard enough, she could hear even the sounds coming from the distant camp. It was all scrambled now. The abundance was confusing without… It… to listen as well.

Her fingers reached for the necklace again, and stopped. Nm'bopo tried to remove it a while ago and the next thing she knew he was on the ground, looking at her as if she was… It was only after a few moments that she realized that 'It' took over her again and she didn't remember what 'It' did to him. What she did to him…

Yet again, she forced herself harder, and her fingers just barely touched the edge of the small black disc, but it was as if her hand had bean shackled, refusing to remove the thing from her neck. The… What ever it was, It has taken her as Its host and bonded with her. She could almost feel It nesting within her, making room as if tiding out a new apartment. It made her sick. She wanted to vomit with illness in her belly.

" And… "; she gulped :" … And there's an inscription further below… : _You shall unleash death of the world. "_; she looked at him :" I think… I _know_ it's intended for me. "

Nm'bopo was close by, but not too close. He learned that lesson well as soon as he failed to take the medallion off. His concerned eyes were fixed upon her and he was focused to that measure, she wondered whether he even heard her. He smelled… frightened. Both for her, and of her. And his blood was pounding in her ears with every single beat of his heart. Forcing herself not to listen to it, she looked back at the camp :

" We must help them… "; she said :" Jack and Yrona… "; she hoped Yrona was alive :" They came for this… thing ! This cursed medallion !"

" I might know someone who can help. "; Nm'bopo said :" But we must go now. "

" …_Don't go with him… "_

" What ?'; Eidolon asked

" I said we should go now. "; Nm'bopo repeated

" … _He wants to rob you… "_

Eidolon got agitated. It was a male voice. The whisper was coming from everywhere, it seemed. Trying to keep her coolness she looked around but it was pointless ; she knew there was no one there already.

" … _He wants to take us apart… "_

" Who's there ?"; she asked

Nm'bopo tossed a quick look around and than back at her. His eyes were almost glittering with despair.

" Ms. Barker… ?"; he spoke, stepping closer

" Stay back !"; she pulled away :" I don't want to hurt you !"

" … _Thirst so strong… _"; the whisper echoed :" _… blood sings… Hear the song… Smell the sins… "_

" Shut up !"

" … _Kill him ! Kill them ! Kill them all ! Take the blood ! All that… "_

She was on her knees, in the dirt, pressing her palms to her ears, but it only seemed to close the Voice and her together within her head. Nm'bopo was on the ground too, holding her shoulders, trying to get trough to her. By the state of her throat, she was screaming… or maybe snarling. But she managed to bounce the Voice back before…

Nm'bopo was still holding her. She wanted to cry ; he seemed so juicy to her. So... ripe and fresh and tasty and... She wanted to dive her jaw into his meet, tear open his veins and drain him dry. No ! She would not ! She could not. He had to get help. He had to go alone, not with her. Not when she could turn on him at any time and…

" Please… "; she whispered :" Go. "; he hesitated :" I don't know how much longer I can hold Him off. "

Nm'bopo lowered his eyes, and she smelled guilt in him. For a while he said nothing, and than he reached and took off his necklace, a big sharp tooth bonded with red feathers. He took her hands and placed it in her palm, closing her fingers over it.

" My Ju-ju. "; he said :" It had always protected me. It will help you in your fight. "

" Thank you. "; she spoke, and he turned and ran in the jungle without another word. Time was wasting on 'good byes'

She didn't watch him go. She wanted to tell him how sorry she was for all she'd done, but there was no apology fitting for it. She killed… She drank that man's blood… She tried to hurt him… No ; she could never find words for an apology. Her only hope was that he'd find a way to forgive her some day. Opening her palm, she looked at Nm'bopo's necklace. An odd thing. That must have bean a crocodile's tooth and the feathers belonged to a parrot or something. Protection ? Ju-ju ? Who would think she'd ever seek aid there ? But any aid was welcomed to her, as well as anything that would connect her to her dear friend.

" You know what I want. "; a rough voice spoke behind her

She slowly turned to the speaker. It was not unexpected that He should present himself at last. But not even with her new sight could she see him clearly. His form was all blurry and dark, standing a few paces away with crossed arms. It appeared human, but she knew better. His clothing was a purple armor with a metal mask to hide his face, and from his right shoulder hung a long narrow cloak with the symbol of the medallion. He seemed huge and muscular like a giant with hair black as the blackest night and his eyes, glowing with red fires, were amused resting upon her.

" Leave me alone !"; she spoke to him :"I want to save my friends. "; No doubt that anyone else would think she was talking to herself right there next to the pit.

" And I want my family. "; he said back :" You are strong. Not strong enough, but you'll do. "

" For what ?"; she asked him angry

" The sun will rise soon. "; he looked towards the horizon, as if he didn't even hear her :" My powers will vane during the day. And your friends will probably die by then. "

" I won't let you use me. "; she spoke to him defiantly :" I won't have the blood on my hands. "

His snarl forced her back almost knocking her down on the ground and the shades around him started to boil and to stir, bending and twisting :

" Blood ? Blood is mine ! You can never keep me from it !"; he growled at her :" You sad fool ! You opened up what your ancestors prayed, stays sealed forever ! Now you'll serve my goals !"

" I will have nothing to do with you, nor will I serve you ! Take these… these powers back and be gone !"

" I am here to stay, whelp. And I chose you. But for my purposes I'll need more. So, I'll let you use my… gifts… to save your friends. You know I'm the only chance they have. "

" No… Nm'bopo will bring help… "; but she knew it was a lie. He'd never get back in time. Everything was spinning around her. She had to take a hold of herself :" What… are you going to do to me… ?"

" First, I'll teach you a lesson in manners. "; he spoke and her awareness seamed to shrink abruptly, forcing her to gasp in fright as he took away a good chunk of her world away :" I'll leave you with the sight and the sense, but the power you'll receive only when you beg for it. And beg, you shall. "

His visage faded and his presence retreated somewhere deep within her. Eidolon sighed disturbed. The strength faded from her, and the power coursing trough her veins drew back, but her senses remained. She could hear and see everything as if in the clearest day, even the things far from her, but that was all. That and the sense of his presence tucking himself somewhere deep within her like her soul served him for a blanket.

For some reason she felt alone, lost in a vast emptiness and dark. It took all her effort not to give in to tears. She almost reached for the medallion to ask him to come back, but she stopped herself. Instead she took a tighter grip on the tooth on a cord in a bundle of small red feathers. At least Nm'bopo was away and safe. And he wouldn't be there to see her go to the lion's den alone to try and save her friends like any idiot would.

Tying the cord of Nm'bopo's tooth to her wrist, she turned back to the camp. The scent of people reached her nostrils even without the wind to carry it. They held her friends. Those bastards came here to steal her finds with their guns and their fancy fanatical ideals ! 'The Master Race' ! Nazi ! Rage took over where fear had been such a short time ago. She knew it was His rage, hate of the creature from the medallion towards these men, but she couldn't fight it back. It was so intense. She wanted their blood. She wanted their lives. And she would take them, to save Jack and Yrona.

Animals fled before her as she ran to the camp. But not like before a running man, but like before a shadow of a predator. A shadow with burning crimson eyes and bare white fangs.

* * *

The light in the lantern seemed to flash stronger and the room spun around his head. The Nazi shook his black glowed fist off, tossing a few drops of blood from it, before wiping it with a white hankie. In the distance he could hear Yrona crying not to hit him again, but he doubted it would do any good.

Jack shook his head trying to sort his thoughts out. It was still a question whether they were beating him to tell them where Eidolon was, or just for fun. He and Yrona were both bound to chairs in Eidolon's tent that had been well ransacked and searched, but obviously nothing was found. He couldn't believe she even killed one of them during her escape. That African Zulu… Nm'bopo… was definitely spending too much time with her. Soon she'd start wearing animal hide and a spear.

As his sight cleared he saw the man who was giving him the 'treatment' talking to another at the entrance of the tent. Yrona was far at the other corner strapped to the second chair and with some blood running over her jacket. A bullet caught and scratched her shoulder, but fortunately it was not bad. He only hoped it didn't get infected.

The two men at the tent's flaps were arguing. Jack tried to overhear what they were saying but it was German. He would understand a chimp first. But they were upset. From what he saw, there wasn't all that many of them, only about twenty, but they had hired the local thugs, Arabs, Turks and other low life to serve them as muscle. That discouraged him. Perhaps he could take those two at the door, but he and Yrona would never get out alive.

They stopped arguing. The man who had been hitting him came to him and smiled :

" Well, Her-Jack, it seams that your missing friend found more than she was looking for. "

" I've told you what I know. "; Jack growled :" What more do you want ?"

" The Relic !"; the Nazi said and got into his face by yanking his hair up :" It's not on the knight's body any more. Your friend must have taken it and that means she'll be dead soon. "

" You underestimate her. "; Yrona spoke loudly from her corner :" She knows this continent like her own pocket. She knows every place where she can get a ride back to Cairo, and from there on to Europe. Assuming that's where she's going. "

" You think we won't find her ?"; the Nazi tossed her a freezing smile :" The Fatherland's arm is much longer than you know. And besides, why would she flee without you ?"; Jack scowled defiant, but the man just snorted :" Whether she comes to us, or we find her later, I promise you, she'll pay for sticking her nose into our affairs. "

Before he knew what happened, Jack received another punch and Yrona's yell was replaced by the sound of bells.


	7. Red

**Chapter six : Red**

* * *

Lazaruss : _Warning ; what you are about to read is a VERY frightening chapter. I'll tend to write my future chapters in this manner, so if you have a faint heart, turn back… TURN BACK BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE ! MOUHAHAHAHAHAHA !_

The night was still fresh and clean. Eidolon could feel darkness against her skin, gently caressing her with its soothing tentacles of black fluff. It made her wish it would last forever. She knew she would hate this new dawn, hate it like none other before it. There weren't enough shadows during the day. Now it seemed like there was never enough. No meter what obstacle there would be in sun's path, the light would always bounce off other things and sneak up again.

Not like the moon tonight. It was full and round like a chubby face, brightly golden in a greenish halo of light, obscured by tendrils of scarce clouds. Laces of its light were gently descending upon her like falling spiderwebs, and something within her was drinking deeply into them. The moon… The beautiful moon…

A while ago she noticed that no insects or animals were anywhere near her, on the hill she was hiding on. With her senses, she should have spotted some, but the area all around was devoid of such. It was strange, but she couldn't afford to stop for pondering it. At least she was in peace from bugs and such.

Her senses were overflowing with such detailed impressions, she had difficulty sorting things out. If she'd focus, she could hear the distant cricket chirping as loud as a rusty car engine. The outlines of remote demolished and collapsed tents in the darkness were now sharp and rough as if she was studying the fabric under a magnifying glass in broad daylight. She could even feel the thing against her skin, as if touching it, even though she was far away.

Lost in these sensations, she almost missed a pair of guards that emerged from amongst the torn-down tents, pacing down the dirt road about fifty yards ahead. Even on this distance, she saw the smallest details of their uniforms, stitches and silver buttons, felt the roughness of the material as if her palm was on it… She could make out their faces down to scars and wrinkles, to smell their sweat, their tobacco, their…

At once the air went cold as if winter had suddenly exploded around her. Strange cravings coiled up in her gut overflowed and she felt a pull towards the two men, a thug from within to drink… something red. It was hard to think. The cold was tormenting her with thirst. So hard to think… Chill and dry ice. But… there was no ice in Africa ?... Everything was slow somehow… Those two figures… she could only see the red which made them now… were warm and full of heat. The world blurred, but the two of them remained sharp, all red and juicy… She could see them amidst the dry ice, and the red strings which made them. There seemed to be a knot in the middle, pumping it trough red cords… red fire, forged with red heat, laced with red pleasure… She wanted to drown in red. She wanted to drink red beyond making herself sick. Red was calling… It was calling… It…

Taking a hold of herself, she clenched her gaping mouth shut and strongly swallowed water that rushed onto her tongue.

" _Control your self, damn you !"_; she almost snarled at herself, as she tried to sink deeper into the tall ferns on the hill

Her teeth were aching. For some reason, her two fangs felt sharp and long, and terribly dry. She had to calm herself, to quell these urges. Taking a few long breaths ( swallows actually ) she reached for her stubbornness and managed to focus on the task at hand. As the alien instincts sank down within her, a strong sense of grief and despair bubbled up. God, what was happening to her ? What kind of a dormant monster did she arouse, uncovering that tomb ? Her eyes watered with early tears. This wasn't…

No. She would not linger and weep when her friends were in danger ! Wiping her eyes dry, she observed the landscape again.

She was lying on her belly, gazing across an empty camp below. Everything was trashed out, tents were half collapsed with one or more of their support poles toppled, and things from within scattered around. They were looking for it… They were looking for her.

The two uniformed men were talking in German, one taking out a box of cigars from the coat pocket and offering it to the other. She was staring again, she realized, as the light of a mach flashed between them. The other backed away before it, just a small flinch, but he lit his cigar none the less. She was staring because she felt his sweet fear… Fear of fire. She could smell it… Even the mach would cause him to… Staring made her thirsty, and it…

Forcing herself to pull her eyes away, she gazed at the distance where the horizon met the earth. So many stars. Not even with a telescope could she see them like this. Taking a few deep breaths seemed to help a bit. She would NOT give in to it ! This was not her ! She would free her friends and get rid of that medallion somehow. There had to be a way. But first…

First she needed a plan. Despite all her senses, she was… she was alone and outnumbered. The Nazis had taken everyone away and the camp was deserted, but regular patrols still scoured the site. It made her wonder how long she was gone. It didn't seem that long to her, but far too many things had changed in her absence. Hundreds of her workers were all captured and taken further into the camp, and there was still enough Nazis to keep searching for her.

It also posed the question of how they were able to get such a large force this far without at least one of her diggers spotting. It made no sense to her, but than again she never could remember all the military tricks from history books. Hard facts were what she was about.

An unpleasant thought nibbled at her awareness but she wouldn't let it in. It was like a worm that tried to invade her fragile sanctuary of sanity… _what if…_ no it couldn't be…_ What if they were…_ They were just diggers, just workers, for God's sake ! They had no reason to… There certainly would be no reason to… She was gripping Nm'bopo's necklace again. The tooth was almost cutting into her palm, but she couldn't let go. _What if they were killed ?_

Suddenly, the two men beneath the hill dropped their chatter and pointed their bayonets amongst the torn tents to their right. Smoke of their cigars scattered before their swift motion. She could see him now ; a scared digger in a stripped cloth and a blue turban. His very breath reeked of fear ; she could feel something within her chuckle to that. He was a bit older, past his middle years. White hair and mustaches concealed his sun-darkened face. An old man.

He came slowly with his hands up and spoke to them in a shivering voice. She wished she could not hear what he was saying. Words of a desperate man spoken in a most humiliating way, forced by crude fear for his naked life. It pained her to see such a sight. If she could only…

The gun fired. She didn't see which one. In a moment time was frozen. She watched the old man fall backwards to the ground like in slow motion. Dust billowed from underneath his body and the stench of gunpowder assaulted her smell. An old man… He was just an old man… a digger… Giggles from the two soldiers echoed in her ears.

No, not soldiers ! Animals ! Things ! A machine would have more heart than this. They were no worse than that thing she was stuck with… No worse than… She was cold all of the sudden. Moon's spider webs turned into a snow blizzard. Everything was slow, except the giggle and the laughter. Her ears throbbed with it.

The body of the digger was lying in a pool of blood.

It was hard for her to think, as if a bunch of wool had been stuffed between her thoughts. Somehow she realized that her claws stabbed into the ground and her nails dug in deep. She tried to make herself pull them out, but they only went in deeper. The world became mist. These men… It was very cold now. She wondered why there was no frost or ice anywhere, but that too was a distant thought. These men… No, it happened… These men…

The body of the digger was lying in a pool of blood.

These men were so small it made her sick to cower from them. So cold, and no ice anywhere. Why was there no ice anywhere ? Why was there no ice ? What was the color of ice ? Red ? No, it was…

The body of the digger was lying in a pool of blood.

Red got mixed with the dirt and dust, but on the moonlight she saw it sparkle like liquid rubies. Red, red, red… She never pondered its wonder. In the world of ice, red was the flame. In the world of fire, red was ice. Red was red. Her eyes were glued to it and the moonlight that red was reflecting off.

The body of the digger was lying in a pool of blood.

She went for it. Red, red, red. Beautiful red. Why were there no songs about red ?

The body of the digger was lying in a pool of blood. It was lying in a pool of blood…

* * *

Jorgen reloaded his bayonet and laughed out loud to Sigmund. He doubted that Sigmund would share his laugh, but he wanted to laugh in his face. He wanted to show him how easy it was to laugh about their work.

It was an important work to purge the world of all those inferior and lesser. He wished that Sigmund would come to realize that. His mind was on the task, but not his heart. He was his friend, but Sigmund had to realize that soon, or he wouldn't be able to protect him from their supperiors. He'd be labeled sympathizer, and made an outcast, if he was lucky.

It was a pleasant surprise to realize that Sigmund was already smiling. It soon became a giggle. He never tossed a glance in Jorgen's direction, only on the old devil. The bastard tried to beg him. He dared to speak to him ! It should have given him pleasure, but instead it only disgusted Jorgen. He remembered begging satisfying him once to the measure of ecstasy, and now he only felt sick. Sick about the very presence of this old rat ! Even his corpse reaked. Sigmund went silent now, though he was still smirking. He would be an Arian yet.

Just as Jorgen wanted to pat him on the shoulder he saw something in the pale moonlight which made his eyes bulge ; a shadow with pearly-white jaws and red eyes was oozing down the slopes of a nearby hill. It was gliding down, all smeared and blurred, leaving a fading misty trail behind it almost as if it was made of black winds. Sigmund saw it too, and reflected his own gapping. Whatever it was, it was… flowing… closer to them !

The two rifles went off the shoulders instantly and got aimed at the thing.

" Jorgen, "; Sigmund whispered :" this must be what we were sent to find… "

Jorgen could only nod. His head was full of awe. Only to think on their armies made of such warriors made him swell with pride. And he would be there ! He would make it happen by delivering this one. It must have been this Eidolon Barker, the scholar who escaped. And she had indeed tapped into this power they were sent to retrieve ! He wanted it. When he'd capture her and deliver her to his field-marshal, he would have the right to be the first one, elevated to such a degree. It would be his by right !

" Think of it, Sigmund !"; Jorgen marveled :" Think of our glories armies, imbued by this force ! Think of our men wielding this power !"

" I would ponder that after we take her. "; Sigmund replied cautiously

He was a fool, Jorgen smirked. No matter ; this power would be his, and not even his friend would stand in his way. But he was right from a certain point of view. If doctor Barker was able to turn herself into a streaming shadow, who'd knew what else she could do. There was no harm in being a little more… careful.

The two of them aimed at her. It wasn't easy, since she was so blurry and unclear. Even the red eyes and white fangs were all rippling, leaving a smoky trail behind her as she went. Though moving quickly, the wraith was not going straight for them, but rather like meandering, waving her path all over the hill slope. But constantly towards them.

Once she got close enough to see the actual outlines of her through her ripples, Sigmund shouted :

" Halt !"

She was almost ten feet away. Jorgen fired a warning shot right in front of her foot. That stopped her, though she was still a black wraith with bare white fangs and red eyes which glittered like amber. It was than that she spoke… something. It was not English. But it had the tone of amusement and casual curiosity. And her voice… echoed somehow, as if a man and a woman were speaking simultaneously. She spoke her line and just stood there with no motion, still a black ripple, like a shimmer of the night.

Sigmund made a step forward and screamed. Jorgen jumped back, trying to hold his gaze on her, but unwillingly, Sigmund drew his attention. He'd dropped his rifle and fell to the ground shouting and rolling in dust. His teeth were bare and his eyes huge, already on the brink of tears. Screams he was making through clenched teeth must have been tearing his throat and lungs like sand paper. He acted as if he was trying to clean his clothes with his hands, constantly hitting it fast as if trying to shake something off.

" Sigmund !"; he shouted :" What ? What is wrong ! Tell me !"

" The fireeee !"; Sigmund screamed :" Put it out ! Please, put it ouuut !"

" Put what out, Sigmund ! There is no… !"

But than he saw her ; the shadow oozing towards them again. He reached for his gun, but jerked his hand at the sight of it. It was crawling with scorpions ! He was surrounded by huge scorpions, some even twenty inches long ! Sigmund's screams were still echoing, but they couldn't get to him any more. He was completely surrounded by these monstrous bugs and they were creeping up on him.

Shakings ran through him like through a stretched cord and cold vast emptiness of freezing terror ate away his organs, leaving only bones locked in ice. He had to get away, but he couldn't go pass the bugs. They reached him and started to crawl over his boots ! He tried to shake them off but for every that would fall, two more would climb ! He was screaming too now, he realized as he jumped up and down desperately trying to cleanse him self of the nightmarish menace.

It wasn't real ! It had to be a dream ! Sigmund thought he was on fire ! He too had to be just thinking he was facing a hoard of scorpions. He managed to get up and look around. Sigmund was still rolling in the dust crawling with angry black bugs he was not seeing, still shouting to put the flames out, and as for her…

Professor Eidolon Barker, PHD, crowned and acknowledged member of the archeological community, a brave explorer of many continents with numerous expeditions in her career… was on her knees, eating the blood of a dead old man. She had stopped rippling now and was clearly visible, but Jorgen wished she wasn't.

With two fingers of her left hand she would slowly dip into the overflowing gunshot wound, and than gently bring it to her mouth and put them in, sucking the blood off them. Panting half trough her nose like some angry ox, she would stretch her blood-smeared teeth in a grin of purest dementia when ever her mouth was free. And her eyes… Jorgen wished he could not see her eyes… All big and red with bursting capillaries, so wide they seemed like they would fall out. She had those fixed on something before her, something beyond his comprehension… It was a most frightening sight he had ever seen.

With every dip, she smiled, grinning and quivering, with her head tiled to her right and shacking chaotically. And those eyes… Those horrible red eyes… Not even the scorpions frightened him any more, but he was terrified of her. Next to him, Sigmund was still screaming and roiling, and the scorpions were still crawling all over him, but he had eyes only for her now, and through all the chaos around him, he thought he heard her whisper :

" …_I love you red… _"

Spoken in a tone of dark amusement and restrained agitation, in an echoing voice of two persons together. It had to stop ! This was madness ! Jorgen managed to muster some control, and jump for his gun. In an instant, she noticed him and all seemed to happen at once. The scorpions were gone, just like that. He grabbed his gun, but she already leapt on him. As he struggled against time to aim and take the shot, she hit him hard, falling on him and grinning like a psycho trough red and white jaws.

This close he saw her teeth. They were clenched so hard they should have cracked. Red spit dribbled from her lips, dripping on his face, hot like molten metal, but the worse of it were her fangs, long like stakes and sharp as needles. Steam erupted out of her mouth and nose as she barked some imitation of a laughter. She was filled with heath and warmth, almost burning with a fever, and against her, he felt like he was lying in icy water. He was suppose to have this, to be her ! Not this !

Those huge eyes were full of hunger… Hunger for him, he realized. He desperately tried to reach for his gun but she overpowered him, grabbing his wrists and slamming his arms to the ground above his head, forcing him to groan with pain. Her nails were sharp like steel plates, sinking deep into his skin, and her grip threatened to crush his bones. Like a hawk watching a mouse, she studied him, except for the monstrous grin. She was a monster, he realized, and there was no escape from her… He was already dead…

" …_I love you red… _"

Was all that came from her before she plunged her teeth trough his skin, tearing the flesh of his neck with bare jaws. Amusement and agitation and chuckle. Pain enveloped his neck like live fire as she growled and gurgled trough his bursting blood. It was unbearable ! His legs kicked wildly. He tried to yell, but he was choking and coughing his own blood out. This could not be happening to him ! Not this ! His efforts to free himself were now reduced to a mild floundering, the last struggle his body had to offer. It was suppose to be his. Not this ! It was suppose to be his !

Through his foggy eyes, he saw the outlines of something gray rising above them. There was a 'thud' in his ears, and her jaws released. Her grasp on his hands was gone. Even as she fell off him, he could just stare at the sky, shaking and not blinking with blood leaking out of his neck. It was his by right ! Just staring, shivering and not blinking… His by right…

* * *

Sigmund took a few breaths. Beneath him, Jorgen was on the ground, helpless with the shock, and professor Barker was next to him unconscious from the blow he gave her at the back of her head. The wooden hilt of his rifle seemed to have cracked at that blow and she received a sizable bump at the back of her head, but it seemed that she was still alive.

Further away, the others started to emerge from the night. No doubt they heard his screams. Why did it take them so long ? He was sure he'd been screaming for hours. Those flames must have been roasting him to crispy bones for ages. He didn't know why they stopped, or where they went, but he was whole and alive. Alive ! He was alive ! He wanted to jump and shout with all his might. He was alive ! Alive and well !

As the other soldiers got to them they first had to pause, observing the pair on the ground and Sigmund laughing like insane, and shaking with it.


	8. Hopes

**Chapter seven ; Hopes**

* * *

Drums were still beating even though they had been for more that two days without rest now. Every Sal'sarene was at the point of collapsing, their ritual garments sticking to their skin with sweat, yet the spirits were inexorable. Dust was glued to the feet and legs all the way to knees and somewhere, the skin would even begin to bleed with the strain of ritual dancing. Nm'bopo knew that already even before he came near enough to see the huge fires and hear the continuous drums and singing. Such a monumental shift in the Spirits' balance did not go unnoticed, and many villages throughout Africa were in the similar state of emergency.

Nm'bopo sighed with exhaustion of his own. Placing his palms on his knees, he allowed himself a small brake. He had been running all night across the planes and through the jungle, and the dawn was already splitting the horizon. The village of Zumbossi was just up ahead, with the glow of their huge fires and the sound of all the commotion reaching out to him. He was almost there. Gulping again, he stood up and ran on. He had to do this. Despite the dangers, there was no other way. The dance of the Sal'sarene encouraged him, despite their ominous calling. These sacred dancers would only be called by the village's medicine-men in times of great need and this certainly was such a time.

He ran on, to certain death, for Mis Barker, for her friends and for himself. It had been years since his exile, and he wowed to abide by the chief's words, but this was too important. The drums echoed the beating of his heart. Just a hundred or so more paces, and he'd be there. He could feel the heat of the ritual fires now. They were reaching into the sky, great clouds of black smoke and pillars of fire that were replacing the still fallen sun. And he could make out the shapes of the dancers spinning around these flames, immune to the roaring heat in their ritual frenzy.

Exhausted, and on the brink of his endurances, Nm'bopo stumbled the last few feet and crawled on the rest of the way, until strong arms grabbed him by his shoulders turning him on his back. He barely recognized the angry warrior now towering above him :

" You should not have come, traitor !"; Kaheina came into his view

He was strong, with tight muscles and many earrings in his ears. Black hair was very short with the exception of his two thin brides that fell from his right side to his shoulder, and he held a spear and a big leather shield. Once long ago, Kaheina was a friend. But not any more. Nm'bopo had no friends left here.

" I could spear you where you fell, and be done with your disgrace… "; Kaheina spoke while Nm'bopo panted :" …but I won't. At least we'll get the chance for a fair fight when you recover. "

Seeing his old friend like that was everything Nm'bopo was expecting it to be and more. His heart was tearing inside with guilt and responsibility for his past misdeeds. He thought he had hardened himself for it, but it still got to him. But past sins were in the past, and the future promised worse. He had to stay strong, no matter what.

" Kaheina… "; he breathed in a silent whisper :" … I've… found it… I've found it !"

Those words hardened Kaheina's face. Without further hesitation, he whistled a pinched call, thus summoning his fellow warriors to help carry Nm'bopo to the chief. Nm'bopo didn't know them, but they did know him ; the whole tribe knew him, and they weren't very pleased to have him back. Likely, any one of them would leave him to starve instead of carrying him. And they were carrying him to the chief !

His knees and thighs burning from the run, Nm'bopo took a look at his former home. The village of Zumbossi was big for an average tribe of Africa. Big and empty. All of its people were at the sacred place, calling to the spirits to avert the anger while the sal'sarene circled around the fire in their ritual dance. Huts of mud, straw and wood with hides for flaps and door stood dark and discomforting, screaming at him that he didn't belong here any more. Everywhere he'd turn, he found only rejection, even from the ground his feet were dragging on. Here and there, there would be baskets of twigs or clay pottery, all left behind in the time of emergency.

They swiftly approached the sacred place, the burial ground of their exalted tribesmen, where the ancestral spirits gathered to watch over their descendants. Offering a silent prayer to the spirits of his ancestors, Nm'bopo rose his sight towards the crowd of his former people. They all backed away before him as the two warriors carried him by the huge fires, even the sal'sarene stopped their ritual dance. Some of them collapsed on the ground with exhaustion and the other tribesmen had to carry them away. Others looked ready to fall, too. Garbed from head to toe in long tufts of grass with the ritual paint of red and white outlining the ancient runes on their faces, the female dancers, despite their ailing feet, stood proud and defiant, ready to spill out their last drop of strength for the safety of their village.

The drums ceased. The people quieted. Only the cracking flame gave off any sound, furiously devouring the wood and whirling hot air into the sky. They placed Nm'bopo on the ground before the seat of his former chief Ungala who gave the same welcome which everyone did ; a cold, angry glare.

Ungala was a mighty chief. The tribe flourished under his rule, and his people respected him. And they respected his word above anything. His coming here was Nm'bopo's second time he had disobeyed that word, and angry murmurs started to rise in the crowd. Ungala was clothed in leopard skin, with hide for the cloak and the head of the great cat for his crown. In his hand he held a carved spear of the chiefs, and was sitting on the throne of his ancestors, a chair of bone and wood, strapped in leather bonds. Standing up, he observed the kneeling Nm'bopo with great disagreement.

" Was it not enough to you, nameless-one, "; Ungala spoke :" that you have to come back for more ?"

" Hate me… for my sin… "; Nm'bopo sighed, still tired :" … but don't… deny my aid… "

" Your aid ?"; the chief grated coming closer, and than he raised his voice :" Your aid !? You should be bond to the Tree of Pain to have the vultures peck on your foul guts ! And you would have been… You would have been, had you not been like a son to me !"

Nm'bopo shut his eyes, unable to gaze at his chief any more. He had to come back. He had to.

" I've found it. "; he finally spoke:" I've found the dark one. "

Women and children gasped in a pinch and men drew closer to hear more clearly. It was the chief's stare that quelled them before he looked back at Nm'bopo :

" You are certain it is so ?"; he asked in somewhat restrained voice :" The evil which spells doom of all men ? The evil of ancient times, when we were not free under the sky ? You… claim you have found it ?"

Nm'bopo found the strength to meet Ungala's eyes :

" Yes. "; he nodded. And his expression left no room for doubt

Someone started to whimper silently, and children hugged their mothers more tightly. The bane of all men had returned.

" That is why you came back… "; and old voice spoke further back, and the people gave the newcomer room to approach with bows of respect :" … It is aid you seek, not for you, nor for the world, but for a woman… "

An old mother, older than any living in the tribe, slowly came forth with the aid of her huge carved staff. She was in a gray rag bound with raven feathers which glistened on the huge flames, and her hair, white with age, was entwined with tufts of dry grass. Oldmamah, as they called her, had a mask of chard wood over her face, with only her blind, glassy eyes visible to the others trough mask's eye-holes. She was the village medicine-woman for many generations, and she herself didn't remember her name any more. Oldmamah was the only name she had.

" Yes, nameless-one ; I have seen much of the fate that hounds your tracks. "; she spoke and her voice was heavy with age and exhaustion :" Sean, and heard even more of the fate which will now descend upon us. "

" Oldmamah… "; Nm'bopo dropped his sight to the ground in a gesture of respect.

" What once was, shall come again !"; she rose her voice as much as she could, weak and withered, for all the tribe to hear :" And there will be no freedom, no places to hide ! All who rise to fight, will be swept like dust on the wind, for the evil of the ancients has bean reborn !"

Men and women and warriors alike fell to their knees and wept to the sky and to the spirits of their ancestors for salvation, and mothers clung to their children more tightly, as if to shelter them from the cold. But the wailing stopped again as the chief spoke :

" Have the spirits, our salvation ?"; he asked the old one :" What can we do against such a threat ?"

And Oldmamah pointed at Nm'bopo :

" He knows the way. "; she said :" You have done well in coming back, nameless-one. The beast is still week. His strength will grow quickly, but he is week yet. You must bring the woman here, before he devours her from within !"

" Here ?" Ungala asked strongly. " You want me to let the monster into my tribe. "

" Yes, Chief. " Oldmamah nodded vigorously. " Into this place of power. Here, where it will be surrounded by the spirits of our ancestors. It is here that we stand a chance against it. "

Ungala frowned. He did not like the idea, but he nodded.

" Tell Kaheina who to seek. "; the Chief told Nm'bopo :" You are too tired to go back. He and his warriors will bring this woman here. "

But Nm'bopo rose to his feet with defiant and determined stare :

" No one but me _can_ bring her back. "; he said :" The others will fail without me. "

" Don't disobey me again, Nm'bopo !"; Ungala grated, but Oldmamah placed her palm on the chief's shoulder :

" The truth, he speaks. "; she said :" It is the will of the High Spirits, for him to go. "

" If I bring her to you, "; Nm'bopo faced Oldmamah :" will you help her ?"

She just turned around and slowly started to limp towards her hut, feeling the way with the aid of her huge staff :

" I will do what I can. "; she spoke, tired, slowly lumbering :" Both for her, and for us… for all of us… "

* * *

Tonight, yet another offering had been brought before her. She was sitting on her throne of alabaster stone, sculpted and carved to appear like a pile of human skulls. Her throne room was a tall, long chamber of solid granite blocks with barely a few torch holders, but enough for slaves to see. Numerous stone columns, dressed in a fat layer of marble cast long shadows over the fine hand-sown carpets depicting flame and devastation, as well as the naked parts of the black floor. And but a bare few of her strongest children were present ; they had their duties and she didn't need more than a few. Not for this meeting in any case.

The humans were frightened. She could see it. She could smell it… He could smell it. He ; not She ! Their eyes were submissively stuck to the floor as she stood up and observed the gift that willingly walked into their midst. The most beautiful of peasant girls and the strongest of men ; a price to be paid for the safety of the village. All ten in total, they were on their knees before their new masters, garbed in silk, gold and lace to enhance their value. The smell of them was delicious. She could feel the hunger ebbing in the back of his mind, but he quelled it with iron will. He ; Not She !

Approaching closer, he let himself feel their thoughts. A jumble of chaotic threads through their feeble minds. Stopping before a young girl with long blond hair, he placed his palm on her chin, lifting her face to meet his. She had green eyes full of fear and despair, which met his reluctantly. She seemed fitting enough to please his… other… appetites. As the patriarch of the clan, it was his right to have the first choice.

" Sinks and falls the hope which is dead… "; he whispered to her, and she shivered, restraining her sobbing :" … in the arms of the god who is dead. Has died that which could have, but for pains that cannot, yet. "

The girl's soul was bathing in fear now. It was a wonder she didn't try to flee yet. But he knew she would. He knew, and didn't want to kill her for it. Extending his will upon her, he dominated her mind, and like a puppet on his strings, she stood up and walked to stand by his throne. She was his choice. As for the rest they would become slaves to his children. Such was the deal. Every three months, ten must come from the village to serve and obey, so their home would be safe. And there were many surrounding villages. Neatly sorted thorough out the year, the clan would receive their due twice in a week. And that was more than enough blood to go around, considering the hunt. Slaves were often killed, but most slaves managed to last for months.

A movement caught in the corner of his eye made him act by grabbing the long dagger aimed at his heart. It was an insolent male, standing in the back of the group, trying to get revenge, or justice or whatever he thought he might accomplish. His companions screamed and started to flee like mindless rats, all but the golden-haired girl who stood motionless by his throne. He didn't bother with them, leaving them for the fun of his children. Instead he focused on his attacker.

This human was strong, for what ever good it could do him. One swift blow, and he fell before her, gasping for air. She felt the fire of thirst grow stronger, urging her on. There was nothing like a good fight to open the appetite. Despite his broken ribs, the man stood up and lunged his blade at her again. This time she welcomed it on her chest, shattering the knife like glass. It was a pleasure to feast after that, as the human floundered weekly in her arms… She had never tasted anything so sweet. She wanted more of it… she wanted all she could grasp… All the red, all the blood…

... bright light assaulted her eyes and she squinted against the glee. It was day time, but the sun was too bright and too hot, a cruelty she was not prepared for. Pain in the back of her head was a dull throb of memory as she strained to collect her thoughts. Eidolon… Yes, that was her name. Eidolon Barker… It was an effort to get to her memories. Somehow, she didn't feel like herself at all. Something was trying to pull her down, to take over her. She fought it with all her strength, but it just laughed like a beast. And than it simply receded, just like that, as if casting her away. She did feel cast away after that.

" I'm… not you… "; she whispered :" I'm me… I'm meeee… "

" She has woken. "; someone said close by in a strange accent… It didn't sound like English at all, but that was all she could understand with the light burning her. God, she felt thirsty. Somehow, she managed to get oh her hands and knees, and lift herself from the floor. Her thick black hair fell like a curtain over her face as she dropped her head in panting, providing a merciful shroud against the brutality of the glee. Even than she had to squint to catch some shade of sight. Instead, she started to rely on her touch to feel her surroundings. Wood on the flour… Yes, these were planks… And than her hand felt the cold surface of metal. Bars. She was in a cage. She felt them all around her in a square, rising above. Even crouching, she could feel the low ceiling. Trapped. Her sight got a little better, just well enough to see the iron bar she was holding. Oh, why is it so bright out here ?

" Out here ?"; she heard that voice again, and realized she had spoken these last words aloud

" Eidolon, are you all right ?"; a distant echo got to her… Yrona ! It _was_ her ! She wanted to see her, but any effort to sharpen her visage resulted in pain. The best she could do was to catch a glimpse of the man next to the cage. He was a soldier in a strange uniform… No he was a German…

And than, it came back to her ; The expedition. The knight and her medallion… The attack on the camp, and the… She groaned under the effort of these memories.

" What have you done to her ?!"; someone shouted. It sounded like Jack, but he sounded different… hurt, or something.

" Close the tent flaps. "; the command came from the man close to the cage

As the brightness diminished, she managed to lift her gaze. A tent ? She was in a tent ? It felt more like a room full of spotlights. What kind of a tent was this ? She was trying to remember…

" Good morning, Frauline Barker. "; she herd the man say with a cold snicker :" I trust you've slept well ?"

Those words roused beastly anger in her, and the desire to grind her teeth made her clench her jaw. No, she wanted to plunge her teeth in his neck. It made no sense at the time, but she was too enraged to contemplate it. Instead, she just growled.

The man before her pulled back a bit, but now she could see him more clearly. His green uniform was decorated by high ranking marks of the German army, a loose silver string, entwining around his left shoulder and under his arm, a cross-shaped medal on the right of his chest, and he had a monocle over his scared left eye. A pin in the shape of a metal eagle with spread wings glistened too brightly to be discerned. She also noticed his officer's cap covering thinning grey hair, high black boots, and red strips sown in both sides of his trousers. A high ranking officer. She felt such anger towards him, she could barely think straight.

" But, where are my manners ?"; he grinned :" My name is Field Marshal Gunter Von Hanner, and you will be my honoured guest… from now on. "

" What… Where… ?"; words were still an effort, yet she forced them out :" Why have you come… ?"

" A lot of questions, Frauline. "; he snickered again. She wanted to tear his face off for these snickers :" But, if you must know... We've come for the same reason you have ; to find some lost artefacts. Thanks to you, we have. "

At once she reached for the medallion, but there was none. Her medallion was gone. The Nazi frowned at her, and she slowly backed away from him, hitting the back grate of her cage. How could she let them take it away from her ? It was hers ! It was… Memories surged into her again. The medallion ! It was evil ! It took over her, and since than, she was torn in constant struggles for control. Again she felt helpless and lost, but didn't let that show on her face. She had to stay unambiguous before the Nazis.

" Eidolon, what happened to you ?"; those words got trough her anger, dispersing it almost instantly

" Jack ? Jack, are you all right ?"; she shouted, still not able to see very far. God, it was as if she was blind !

" A bit battered, but I'll live. What hap… "

" Oh, make him shut up !"; Gunter waved his hand and Eidolon heard a dull sound of a punch. It made her anger flare up again, almost as bright as these cursed lights. Somewhere to her left, Yrona screamed, and Eidolon found herself growling. She was but an inch away from tearing trough these bars and killing every last one in this tent ! Somehow, she restrained herself, though she didn't know how. She was too week to stand up, let alone do something as absurd.

" That cage becomes you. You are quite interesting, growling and behaving like a wild animal. "; Field Marshal Gunter told her walking to a nearby writing desk. Yes, she could see a bit better now… Growling ? What was he talking about ? She did not growl ! He reached his gloved palm, taking up a familiar necklace on a cord and dangling it before his monocular :" It seems that your connection with this trinket extends beyond physical contact… "

Whatever anger she had before, seemed like a pale candle next to what was infesting her at this moment :

" Give it back, NOW !"

She herd Yrona's attempt to suppress a scream and smelled the turmoil in her heart. Why was she frightened, all of the sudden ? It was stark terror that bloomed within her. Even Gunter stepped back. Yes, she could see clearly again. She could see him and Jack and Yrona, and many soldiers in the tent. They were all frightened, all terrified, staring at her, frozen like wax figures. Wax figures filled with blood. Blood… within them…

The entire tent was red to her now, all the colours different shades of sweet crimson, and what the others saw was something more disturbing. They saw a pair of amber-burning eyes, framed by a face twisted in anger and a jaw full of sharp teat, somehow gaping more than it was humanly possible. Eidolon was oblivious to that. All she cared about was getting the necklace back from Gunter, but the brightness returned again, and she was forced to cower in the corner of her cage.

Gunter closed the tent flap once more :

" You persist, Frauline, and we'll see what other ways we can find for taming you. "

Despite the pain of light, she met his eyes :

" Mark my words, "; she whispered to him in such a cold tone, her breath misted with frost :" I shall yet eat your heart out. "; and with a sharp hiss, she ducked behind her crouched knees to shield herself from the glee.

" We'll see, Frauline… "; he spoke, leaving the tent with the necklace in his hand :" We'll see… "

* * *

As he left the tent, Field Marshal Gunter went back to his thoughts. At first he thought this task was a worthy challenge, but now he was beginning to doubt himself. This had become one of the few experiences he had that managed to shake him so. No ; doubt could kill more easily than a man. He swiftly dismissed it from his thoughts. For now, the daylight kept Frau Barker in check, but the sun was to set eventually. Hopefully, the electric lights they brought would have the same effect, and if not, than they would probably have to kill her.

Taking his monocle off, he rubbed off some numbness from the corners of his eyes. This continent was too warm and dry for his liking. Fortunately it would all be over soon. Power was always dangerous, but it was also worth it in the end.

Once more he glanced at his prize. Who would have thought that a big sharp tooth in a bunch of strange feathers on a cord could hold such power. He'd have to find a way to tap into that power for himself somehow. It still surprised him of how well it was preserved, but then again, it was the legacy of an Arian race ! He was almost starving to get his hands on these gifts, yet, despite his efforts, it was still infusing the woman. Even unconscious, she ha been gripping it so tightly in her fist, it took three men to pry it away from her.

" Have the prisoners closely watched. "; he gave an order to the guard at the tent entrance :" If there is trouble I'll be in my tent. "

" Jawohl mine Field Marshal !"; the man saluted.

Yes, in his tent where his personal occult library was. Maybe he could find some clues to unlocking the artifact.

" Heil Hitler !"; he left for his task, followed by the same reply and the clicking of the soldiers heals.

* * *

Lazaruss :_ Sorry about the delay, but I've bean busy. Lot to do. You can expect my next chapter… maybe within a month or two…_


	9. A Blood Omen

Lazaruss :" _Another scary chapter. Get ready for it._

_PS : I'm going to distance my self from the Nosgothic vampires, and make them into a more traditional monsters. So, in this story, water won't do squat, crosses will help ( a bit ), a stake trough the heart, garlic, sunlight… You know ; the cheesy-movie things !_

_PPS : Kain and all of his children here are the villians, so don't cheer for them ( at least, not so loudly ) ! I'll yet decide who will win in the end._ "

* * *

**Chapter Eight : A Blood Omen**

Though his feet were ailing with strain, Nm'bopo led Kaheina and six of his warriors to the human camp, many miles to the east. The day has long since begun, yet the sun still had some time to reach its peek. Kaheina was swift to depart, for he counted on Nm'bopo slowing them down, but to his surprise, the man was the one who was running the fastest, as if the very Ancestors gave him haste. Nm'bopo was actually glad for his former friend's actions, aware of the doubt which caused them, for the swift departure meant earlier arrival. He didn't allow him self to dwell on thoughts of failure. As far as he was concerned, Miss Barker will live, because she had to live, and that was the truth of it.

The land was different as they ran across it now. None knew what was amiss, but there would be a tingle in the air, a whisper in the water, or a feeling in the earth which would bring chill to their bare feet and a sense of things being not as they should be. Other creatures felt it too ; the caribous were increasingly aggressive, even the females, and the small band had to keep distance from the few herds which they came upon. Most of the animal herds were in the same condition, and even the pack animals and predators were fighting each other more than it was common even for a mating season. The whole continent smelled of madness.

They didn't speak as they ran. Kaheina had few things to say to Nm'bopo, the others even less, and Nm'bopo said what he had to say long ago. Besides, any conversation would only spark more hostility between them, and as much as the others disliked the company of the Nameless-one, they had to restrain their temper. Too much was at stake for personal grudges.

With the pain in his feet and chest, Nm'bopo was speeding on eastward, always at the front of the party, minding to avoid the aggressive beasts which now roamed the earth. Fortunately, they were well armed for anything that would come before them ; each warrior had a leather shield and a spear, but their main weapons were peashooters with a supply of poisonous thorns, saved for the end of their journey – silent and deadly. Kaheina even had a bow and a quiver of arrows ; it was not common in their tribe next to the peashooters, but he was an expert marksmen with the weapon.

Thus the small party moved across the plains of Africa, and by the time the sun reached its apex, they were already far away.

* * *

Noon was almost upon them. As the sal'sarene were to be replaced by others, chief Ungala retired to his cottage to wait for an emissary from the nearby village of Makutu. Nm'bopo's return was most untimely, now that the relationships between the two tribes were beginning to restore, and frankly, he was glad to see the man go before the emissary arrived. To have the man see the Nameless-one back would be a disaster. 

The Chief was exhausted with worry and sleepless nights, but he couldn't sleep yet. Despite his exhaustion, his village still needed him. Maybe after the messenger has departed he'll be able to get some real rest, but as for now, he just needed to get out of the sun. As he entered his home he found a skinny, dusty figure cross-legged on the floor waiting for him. It was Mitadre, another of the village's medicine men. He was covered in white dust from head to toe including his very short hair and beard, holding a short stick with a pair of dried agama-fruit dangling on the leather strips bound to the top, and around his head was a wreath of leaves.

Bare few people had the right to enter Chief's home uninvited, and Mitadre was one of them. The cottage was large and decorated with wooden carvings and figures to protect all who dwelled in it from evil spirits – slender and tall for most part, the represented people and animals, even masks, arrayed on four shelves on each wall. Some of these figures were filled with metal nails to nail the evil entity within the figurine so it won't bother the living again until the nails fall out. The center peace of this collection was a support beam of charred wood that rose from the center of the floor to the ceiling, sculpted to resemble faces and heads one atop of another. The floor was covered with an old sag in blue color, laced with silvery threads, and there was a second, more comfortable throne in the corner in which Ungala could relax after a hard day.

The medicine man didn't make any gestures as his Chief entered, but his silence made the notice and the courtesy almost whisper in the air.

" What do you see. "; Ungala asked him. Mitadre had the gift of far-sight, almost as strong as Oldmamah's, but he didn't often go along with her interpretation of the events. What ever the differences between the two, Ungala was willing to listen to them both, even though the advices he would receive were sometimes contradictory.

The medicine-men spilled a handful of bones in the dirt, just off the rug, and with his eyes fixed on them, he spoke :

" A time of great change is upon us... "; he whispered :" And its herald is a woman… a white woman, the Bearer of the Seal of Darkness. "

She was a whiteskin ? Nameless-one didn't mention that :" Will they reach this woman in time ?"; Ungala asked. There was no need to tell who he meant.

" Yes, they will. "; Mitadre spoke, louder this time :" But she won't reach us in time. With each passing moment the Beast gains in strength, and her spirit is fading quickly. "

" And your advice ?"; the Chief asked :" Send more warriors to meet Kaheina as he returns, and have the woman killed ?"

It was then that Mitadre met Ungala's eyes :

" The Beast thrives upon the blood of others. It shall follow blood like the child follows mother, for it shall feed it like the mother feeds her child. Still, for all its cunning and unearthly intelligence, it is dominated by raw instinct. Lure it. And kill her. Without the woman for its vessel, the beast would be caged again. "

It made sense to the Chief , except for one thing :" And what of Kaheina and the Nameless-one ? They went to save the woman. "

" Her salvation is beyond all of us. "

" Oldmamah believes otherwise. "

" And might even be able to help her, if the woman reaches us in time, but that will never be. "; Mitadre gathered his handful of small bones and stood up :" Kaheina and all who went with him are rushing to their death. Your only choice, Great Chief, is to save who you can and sacrifice what you must, or to learn how to worship the Night Everlasting. "

Ungala tried to think as he placed his leopard cloak and crown on the hook on the wall. He really tried, but having no sleep for two days made his reasoning real slow. A life of a white woman was nothing next to the safety of his village and all the villages in Africa, and yet it didn't seem right to simply walk out on her even though she was a blank face in his mind's eye. Further more, he was unwilling to simply abandon Kaheina and his party – most of all, the Nameless... Nm'bopo – and to hold them for lost. But was it necessary ? For the safety of all ?

" I shall consider your words. "; he said finally, adding more quietly :" Even the wisest can not see all the endings from afar. "

" Consider quickly, Great Chief… "; restrained horror was at once tainting Mitadre's voice and the dried agamas started to rattle against his stick and he tried to still his arms :" … For our own endings are not as far as we've hoped… "

Ungala had an instant to wonder what those ominous words meant, before a scream reached him trough the leather flap of his dour, joined with countless other cries and woes. Mitadre simply closed his eyes, dropping his head sadly still shaking in fear, before Ungala rushed out to see the source of the commotion.

The entire tribe that was gathered upon the Sacred Place, was now fleeing past him, running away from the ritual fires. Pottery that broke and shattered in their frenzy was the least result of their chaos. Fear painted every face as their feet filled the air with fine dust in their running, blurring Ungala's sight. It was only after the mob got thin enough for him to stop a passing warrior by grabbing him for his shoulders and facing him :

" What is happening ?"; he yelled to be heard trough the commotion, but it seemed to frighten the man even more. He was the look of terror itself, almost crying with the immensity of it.

" Th… Their s-s-skin… "; the man stammered in a wailing tone, with eyes as big as they could be :" Th-they all just… b-b-burst… "; and with that he run off, calling for his Ancestors.

Slowly, Ungala turned to the direction from which they fled, and as the dust cleared, he saw the source of the commotion ;

The sal'sarene were no more, and in their stead, a bunch of bloodstained bones was dancing in a circle. Skeletons, with their ribs and limbs still baring traces of their former flesh, all dripping in blood, were dancing around the ritual fires that wafted char-black smoke straight into the sky, resisting the African winds. Not black – that color was darker than black – and it rose to the unseen heights all the way to the noon sun, devouring it in its shroud. The apparitions were dancing around this immense black pillar with their feet trampling bits of skin and body parts which were once the ritual dancers.

Ungala could only stare at what was left of the dancing women. Their bones still hopped, trampling all that remained of their flesh in a ring of spraying blood, around this… this Altar of Darkness. It was very hard not to bend over and empty his stomach.

Gradually he became aware that Mitadre was behind him, and not tearing his eyes off the gruesome sight, he addressed him :

" …what… is that ? "

" I don't know… "; the man gulped. His voice still sounded terrified :"A taste of things to come… A message… A seed of chaos to be planted amongst us… "

The further the running people got, the more clearly could Ungala hear those skeletal feet splashing in pounds of blood and chunks of shredded flesh. With each step, it would spray in the air like a crimson fountain, clearly visible on the bright ritual fires. It took all his strength to whisper the order :

" Dispatch men to meet up with Kaheina… And tell them… Teach them how to kill the thing. "

* * *

Oldmamah was patting Tengam's neck as the creature swiftly carried her across the plains. The animal was something no one in the tribe has ever seen before, but it had strength in its four legs to carry a person swiftly where ever they needed to go. Tengam was the name she gave him, for in the tongue of their ancestors, it meant 'Faithful'. Now more than ever, she needed someone she could trust. 

" Hurry, dear Tengam. "; she whispered in a voice rasp with age :" I need your speed more than I need your sight. "

Despite the wind which rushed by, the animal heard her, and swiftly like a great gazelle Tengam carried her on his back, yet gentle enough to ensure she remained in the saddle. Faithful was a good name since she had to trust him with their path ; the best her blind eyes could make out were formless shapes of trees passing around them trough thick gray fog, and even so, she had no doubt they were on the right track.

Behind her, she could still hear the screams in the village, and sense the evil which was now tainting the Sacred Place, but she didn't stop to go back. She couldn't help her tribe in that way. This was the only choice left. She needed Nm'bopo's strength. He alone held the power to banish the Beast, although he still didn't realize it, and she feared that he might have to die to see the deed done.

Screams in the village didn't diminish, nor did the stench of evil. Soon now, they will discover she was gone from her tent and Chief Ungala would be most upset. She wished she could have told him of her plans, but men were always overprotective. He would not let her endanger herself, despite the alternative, and there was no time to argue him out of it. What ever the cost, she had to reach Nm'bopo before he gets close to the Beast. If only the spirits told her before he left… There was nothing to do now, but to ask for the Ancestors to welcome the dead sal'serene amongst them and put the faith of all on Tengam's legs.

* * *

She felt like her skin was burning, and it was a surprise she didn't hear the sound of it cracking as her fists clenched. By now she expected to have five-degree burns on her skin, but it was still whole and unmarked under her touch. It produced a flash of relief before she took the next breath. Thirst was pressing her again. Though she couldn't even squint against the brightness, she could clearly hear the sound… BOM-bom … BOM-bom … BOM-bom … She thought the others spoke to her a couple of times by now, but she couldn't pull the memory to the surface, next to that rhythmic beating. 

It was hard to think. Eidolon thought she had to do something, but she couldn't recall what that might be… Jack and Yrona. She had to… had to do… What ? Something with them. She had to do something with them, but it was too much of an effort to remember what. God, it was hot in here. God, she was thirsty. And that sound of rhythmic beating kept taunting her… It kept provoking her…

BOM-bom … BOM-bom … BOM-bom …

Next to the brightness around her, the glaring heat of rage in her heart made her fell like she was on fire. They've dared to cage her ? They thought to torment her into submission ? A lunatic laughter tore trough the inside of her scull, and her own lips curved in a smile. She was Time it self ! She was a God amongst insects, and they thought to bring her to heel ?

" _You are beginning to see more clearly… "_

A familiar voice addressed her amongst her thoughts. She couldn't remember him ether, but she knew he was… important… somehow. It didn't meter now, for his words were gently ringing in her head, giving her protection from the brightness.

" _The light is almost at the sky's peek… Do you know what that means ?"_

For all the distractions she had until now, this memory came to the surface so easily it was hard to believe she could ever do that. It was easier than remembering her name… Her name… What was it again… ? Before she had time to consider it, her mouth spoke on their own, compelled by the force of the new reminiscence :

" It means… we get to fight it… "; she whispered trough that stretched grin :" Lords of the Night get to kill the new day… to bring forth the shadow in the reign of light… "; on their own, her words got loud and booming, overwhelming even the rhythmic beatings :" Kill the new day ! Kill the old hope ! Curse the Light's way ! Fear your Lord's scope ! "

The last was a growl, she realized, as the ground shook slightly beneath them and frightened shouts and even screams started to reach trough from outside the tent. Men's screams. The light was getting dimmer…

Eidolon didn't need to see to know what was happening ; a pillar of black was reaching into the sky, raising to the sun and swallowing the cursed ball with its high top. Pure extasy enveloped her as this power surged trough her. The power of Darkness ! She felt it with all of her being, as if she was the source of it ! Eidolon… Yes, that was her name… This dusk was so appealing it was an effort not to sink back against the bars as if into a hot bath, and a sigh of relief passed trough her curved lips. The light got dimmer still as the pillar climbed higher, and by the time it reached the top of its limits, the noon seemed like a cloudy sunset.

Red forms were all around her now, running in their compelling heat, laced with red veins… all over… Whatever comforts the darkness offered, the stench of fear brought her pleasure to the boiling point. It was indescribable. The very scent made her wild with desires. She had to taste it, just a taste, even though she knew she won't be able to stop herself once it touches her lips.

" _You want it… "_; he whispered :_" …I want it… We want it… "_

" … we want it… "; she spoke, drawling and shaking, as she crouched on the wooden floor of her tiny, fragile prison. The red form before her was seeping with terror. It was sitting in a chair, emanating with beatings… Drawing her towards it…

BOM-bom … BOM-bom … BOM-bom …

" _You may have my powers again… If you beg for them !"_

" I… "; suddenly the form before her became less enticing. She frowned, trying to see beyond… beyond the smell and the sound… She knew she had to, though she didn't know why. Forcing her self even harder she pierced the red veil, and at once recognized the woman she was facing, bound in the chair in the corner of the tent – Yrona !

The sight of her shocked Eidolon to the bones. She wanted to kill… She wanted to… Before she could even begin to feel revolted, a scream of rage tore trough her thoughts, ringing her head like a struck gong. The presence of another fled and she was alone again. It was a chilling sensation, but at least she could think more clearly again... She wanted to kill Yrona !

By the sight and smell of her, Yrona knew that too. Concern was mixing with fear in her eyes as she stared at the creature in the cage. The creature… Eidolon couldn't find a better term. Fortunately, Jack was on the other side of her cage, and could not see the hunger burning in her eyes... the hunger for Yrona's blood. A small mercy, not to have to meet his gaze as well. All she could do now was to try and harden the borders of her fragile sanctuary. Somehow, in her mind, she managed to erect walls of images of her friends and her former life, merging them together with what remained of her will. But she knew it wouldn't last much longer. This time he almost broke trough. And next time…

She wanted to scream in rage as the men ignited new electric lights around the cage, burning her almost as strong as the sun, and she wanted to weep as she heard his voice inside her whisper :

" _Soon, now… Soon… "_

_BOM-bom... BOM-bom... BOM-bom..._

* * *

Lazaruss :" Mou-ha-ha-ha-ha !" 


	10. Suits of flesh

Lazaruss : _This chapter will be a little sad... _**  
**

* * *

**Chapter Nine ; Suits of flesh**

* * *

Darkness came swiftly that day. He felt strange thinking of that notion. Darkness… Was there more meaning to that word now ? He couldn't remember, though he tried. Much of his old life was lost and dead under a mountain of the passing ages, and what remained was still adjusting to his new body. In time, this week human flesh would change back to what it was, and his memories would return. Most of them. A human mind was not fit to store information. It was insufficient and feeble, another testament of their inferiority.

Once more he observed his master's work ; A black pillar rising to the sky, blocking the light from reaching the earth. Fools in the camp were terrified, running around as fast as it was possible for them, swarming like ants or some other insignificant insects. He smirked to that ; if a simple illusion could spark such chaos, he could barely wait to see the results of his master's next move. Memories were hurting him.

The pillar and the shadow were just a magical projection, streaming from the altar where his master's will sacrificed a few mortal girls to fuel forces of the sky into his design. A simple flow of eyes-deceiving magic, yet enormous, stretching across the clouds for a hundred miles. He wanted to get down on his knees and worship such strength.

Sadly, he couldn't. He wanted to do a lot of things, to feed again, but the voice in his head beckoned him, demanding otherwise. That skinny girl in white clothes was not enough to sate his hunger. For a moment he wondered if her dry body was well hidden. He did not expect to find so many humans here, and it only took one to make his work more difficult. It was a fleeting thought, as much from certainty in his skill, as from the disorientation that held him since he opened his eyes. At the moment, few thoughts had a solid foothold in his head, but he forced his attention on the abundant cattle.

These mortals were so preoccupied by fear and their tasks, he almost wanted to start killing them just to see whether they'd notice. Men in strange green suits of comfortable materials were running all around him in turmoil. They were packing their supplies and wares on horseless carriages of green metal which rumbled loudly and wafted stuffy smoke around them. It was hard to adjust to such a sight. Hard, for it caused anger.

Cushy – that was the word to describe these sights. Everything here was made to make humans feel more comfortable. He loathed that luxury. Because they didn't have it in their time ? Perhaps, but he loathed it none the less.

How long has it bean ? An age ? A millennia ? A blink of an eye ? Does this new world even remember who its masters are ? Memories he found at his rebirth were scarce, most still too slippery to grasp, but what he did know was that the timing for the Awakening was perfect. This world was in a state of war ! Men struck down other men for nothing more than skin color or religion. It was so delightfully mad he couldn't stop the devious smirk from curving his lips. What ever time has passed, this Age of Lunatics was the perfect soil for the Empire to be re-planted.

No one noticed him any more than the next man, as he boldly paced unaffected by the darkness trough all their running, trembling and moaning. A beacon of confidence in the sea of fear, unaffected by the Darkness. If they'd only knew… Yes. The Darkness ! He remembered now. He knew what he had to do. The enemy was already moving, but he knew his place, assigned to him eons ago. Soon the six Sires shall walk again, and when they bring forth the Overlord, this world too will remember that which was forgotten.

Suddenly he stopped in his tracks. It was time ; the Master was calling to him.

* * *

" How did you do it !?"; Field Marshal Gunter practically screamed at the woman in the cage. She was quite different than a few hours ago. Her skin has gone pale like chock, her hair became even darker than before, and when she would flash her eyes out trough those long streams of black hair, one could tell they were reddened like blood. Though he would never admit it out loud, such a change frightened him. She was degenerating, rather than elevating, and he had no intention to undergo such a transformation, if that was the price to be paid. In that case, it would be enough to control those who would.

Those bloodied eyes stared back at him almost frozen. She tiled her head a bit as if studying him, mouth half opened and those two teeth sticking out. Fangs. They seemed longer than before. And sharper too. She didn't seem to understand, reduced to this animal, yet he knew it was her doing somehow, this theft of the sun, and even now greed in him overwhelmed fear and revulsion by far. Greed for this power. He burned with the desire to own it, to make it his to wield.

They brought her cage to his tent soon after the spectacle in the sky, and she was surrounded by 500-watts reflectors which kept her at bay. Five of his men were in the tent too, ready to kill her the moment she moves. Even so, he didn't feel quite safe with her around. He didn't think that safety was achievable.

The tent it self was a large space of white sheets, with many luxurious items, predominated by rare stuffed animals on numerous pedestals. He liked these animals ; they were his own hunt, and now his trophies. There was no bed, for those like him seldom slept more than a few hours a day. Instead, there were many shelves filled with occult books and literature on ancient lore, which Gunter used in many occasions. Next to the eastern tent-wall, there was an expensive writing desk with a stand lamp and Gunter's personal diary, and next to it stood a chest with his personal possessions.

With so much light in here, the tent seemed like it was on fire to those outside. The hum of the gas generator which powered them was distant but it still gave safety to the men around the cage. Few people were unafraid by the omen in the sky. Gunter's tent held his own omen, however, a Nazi Cross on a huge red carpet blanketing, and another one on a banner hanging from a pole opposite of the dour, so all who would enter may see the symbol of the Fatherland. And fear it more than that which was outside.

" Answer me !"; he shouted again, but it had no effect. She could be staring trough him for all he knew. Taking out his gun, he slowly aimed, firing a shot, an inch below her foot, splintering the wooden floor of the cage. She didn't even twitch. Instead she started to drawl, a drop of spit leaking down her chin. But he wasn't going to give up yet !

He presented the artifact, dangling it before her cage, just short of her grasp. It still surprised him how well this tooth in a bond of feathers was preserved considering all the time it passed. It was the source of her power ! It had to be. All the texts agreed on that ; The Spirits of the Nataraja, as they were referred to in the ancient scrolls, were bound to the artifacts, awaiting those worthy to assume their powers. He _was_ worthy ! And he was going to make this thing see it !

The sight of the necklace seemed to get trough to her. At once she seemed as if she was fighting something, almost snarling with effort, her eyes fixed on the tooth and her head quaking in a chaotic way. Once she settled she looked back at him with a different expression, one that could almost be sadness…

" Pppprrrrr… "; she coughed before it came out

" What ?"; he asked almost snarling :" I want the secret ! Tell me !"

" …Prrrleasssse… "; she mumbled :" … khillllmhe… khillll… me… "

The hand which held the tooth-necklace was trembling, making it dance on the bright lights. His back hit the edge of the writing desk and he realized he was backing away. Letting go a loud sigh he collected the necklace back into his fist and turned around, trying to appear unshaken, while pretending to be spinning pages in his diary. The girl was just weak. She was unworthy. That was all… But his gloved finger glistened with sweat as he passed it over his forehead.

Suddenly she started to laugh. She tossed her head up and was laughing with rich melodic laughter, spoiled only by those long fangs. This sudden change in her behavior put a frown at Gunter's face as he faced her again, and she started to whisper a tune staring strait at him :

" _I once knew a man with thoughts of fame… His head was stone his heart the same… Of an 'Angry Cross' he was a part… And he was a fool, who thought he was smart… "_

It had the most insulting and offensive tone, teasing his every fiber :

" Stop that !"; he yelled, but she only laughed more, singing on

" _His clothes was green, his blood so red… "_; Gunter reached for his gun again and fired a bullet just next to her shoulder. It had no effect :_" … In the deepest grave I made his bed… "_; the next shot tore her right sleeve :_" With the blackest earth did I tuck him in… Oh, what fool, what Fool he had bean… "_

Her mocking sneer was making him quiver with rage. But he couldn't kill her. Not yet.

" Bring more lights here !"; he ordered instead :" Two more ! We'll roast her if we must !"

She was just laughing, crouched in her corner. Laughing in his face. But when those reflectors arrive, he imagined she won't be so amused.

" Get those spotlights now !"; he shouted at his men. What was wrong with those idiots ? Why were they not… moving…

" _Blind he walked, and thought he could see… And high above all he wanted to be… " _

Someone else walked in the tent then. It was that soldier who managed to capture her and hold her down ; Jorgen Brenner. He was hurt in her capture but the nurse said he would recover. It was just a flesh wound to his neck…

A light ball in one of the reflectors popped in a spray of glass and sparks making Gunter jump. The reflector went dead.

" Jorgen, send word to bring more light here and… "

There was something strange in Jorgen's eye, a hungry spark almost like an animal. Another light ball went dead in a burst, fueling Gunter's unease. He couldn't seem to make his gun stop trembling in his hand. In a slow move, as if he was in no hurry, Jorgen approached one of the guards in the tent, and as his lips stretched in a smile, a pair of sharp fangs fell out. Soon, his whole face was stained in blood, as he plunged his fangs in the man's neck, growling like… like Professor Barker. The other four guards seemed to be unaware of it all.

For the first time in perhaps forever, Field Marshal Gunter Von Hanner felt the kind of fear a trapped animal would, the fear few of his victims felt in his greatest triumphs. But years of service to the Fatherland thought him better than giving into it. Instead he considered his options ; He could shout for help, or he could kill Jorgen first, and than Frau Barker. He was trough playing her games. As long as she was trapped in the cage…

His eyes bulged.

The cage was empty. Without explanation, an unfilled space loomed before him, seeming to take in his whole sight. The lock was untouched, the bars were in place, even the dust on the wood was unstirred ! Quickly he aimed at that thing that used to be Jorgen, to kill him at least and maybe buy some more time, but his heart almost stopped dead as he met a pair of crimson eyes in a pale face. She was close enough for a kiss, her hot breath almost burning his neck and chin. Crimson eyes, deeply set in her chock-pale face stared back at him freezing his limbs on the spot. He should have shouted… He should have screamed… should have…

" _Now is the time to pay the price… The greatest of men… The smallest of mice. "_

No ! There was still time ! All he had to do was shout ! He just had to shout, and his men will come to his aid. Instead, something small and pinched came out of him, hardly resembling his voice. The rest of the lights went out too cloaking the tent in shadows, yet her eyes remained, bright-red and burning, to make him bathe in freezing sweat. All he could was to flee in some dark corner of his mind, cowering before the fear which turned his bones to ice, but somewhere in that corner, he also had to admire such power – the power of Fear. He wanted to scream, to cower, to beg, but he also wanted to get down on his knees and worship his Mistress for but a small taste of that which she possessed.

Reaching to his pocket, he managed to present her with the artifact, his token and offering to his new goddess, dangling in his quivering hand, and she presented him with a human heart, still beating in her claw… He saw no more after that.

* * *

The last of the guards fell limp to the ground, now resembling a hundred years old carcass with no body fluid what so ever, just like the others. The man who once was Jorgen Brenner was not a man at all any more. His hand was already becoming more to his liking ; pale, with black nails, sharp as a scalpel. Scalpel… what was that ? That word drifted into his head seemingly out of nowhere. A bit of memory from the mind of this Jorgen no doubt. But Jorgen was no more, and he _was_. Now and forever ! He was Sardas Ecnematim, Slayer of the Innocent, and the First Guard of his Lord and Sire Dumah the Unstoppable. His Sire…

His Sire was feeding on a heart he ripped from the body of this human-lord, and was doing so with great delight. His Sire… There was no strength in comparison, and he cared not for the other clans, or even Kain him self ! His Sire was the only God he worshiped. Falling to his knees, Sardas crawled to him, just to feel him self in his presence, to bathe in the redness of his eyes.

His vessel seamed unfit for one such as he ; a frail human girl in yet another style of futuristic garment that seemed fit for repelling the sun and allowing the flow of air trough to the skin. Sardas could only imagine that a human would find it useful in this hot land. But he knew his Master's aura, even now gleaming trough every inch of her skin, dimming Sardas by its radiance ; a shroud of shadows prolonging in a mass of swarming black tentacles that fizzled angrily, filling the entire tent. Some were stretching for miles, others were so short and small even Sardas couldn't see them. Night was a living thing in his Sire's grasp.

" My Sire… "; he whispered with reverence in his heart and tears in his eyes :" … You have found me… At last, you have found me. "

" _It is time my child._ "; he spoke in a tone of a man and a woman speaking simultaneously :_" Sand leaks faster trough the hourglass now. The time of the Awakening is upon us, at last. "_

Unshed tears glistened in Sardas's eyes :" What is your bidding, my Master ?"

" _What was will be. What is will be no more. The shadow will fall across the world, and all will come to darkness ! Blood of man shall flow in rivers unending, for I walk the earth once again !"_; suddenly he swayed a bit, gripping a strange necklace in his hand ; it was a tooth in a bond of red feathers on a leather cord. It was as if he wanted to let it go, but his fist only clenched it tighter.

" … Sire… ?"; Sardas asked with concern

" _She is strong. Most unusual for her kind. A shame that I have to devour her, rather than embrace her. "_

Sardas did his best not to frown. He was able to devour his host within seconds, but his Sire was still struggling for control ? It had to be a powerful spirit, to endure for so long, and against one such as his Master. Perhaps he chose her for it. He did have a tendency to take the most special of the cattle. In their age, the whole clan would sometimes search for months before they could find those exceptional enough to please his appetite. Perhaps this girl was one of the Wise in this age, to poses such endurance.

" _Come my child. "_; he spoke at last, gripping the tooth tighter in his claw :_" My Brothers await their Bearers, and I know just where to find them… "_

The air around him rippled and the Seal reappeared around the girl's neck – a round medallion of black-wrought silver with a bright flow of copper to sign their Clan's mark. It was a 'pocket of ether', a simple but useful spell to store items in, where no one but the caster could retrieve them again.

Within seconds after the light in the tent died out, the men outside rushed in to make sure that the creature is contained, but it was far too late. The place was a nightmarish scene, with bits and peaces of what used to be stuffed animals, broken and shattered all over the floor along with ash of half-burned paper, wafted in the draft. The flag of the swastika and many of the tent sheets were torn like by a giant claw, and some were stained in blackened blood.

But the most disturbing sight was the body of Field Marshal Gunter Von Hanner, hanged by his ankles, naked and with a huge hole in his chest where his heart once was. Blood was poring from it over his face, shoulders and arms, dripping from his fingers on the carpet beneath, and placed around him, were five skinny green carcasses, facing five directions so that their feet were conjoining below Von Hanner's gapping head. Withered like mummies, and also naked, they were recognizable only by the uniforms, neatly folded beneath their heads like pillows.

Sigmund was one of the soldiers who rushed to help, and now he could only wish to wake up from this fever dream. He couldn't speak for others, but he was already deeply regretting their coming here. Still, he was willing to bet his life that he was not the only one by far.

* * *

Lazaruss : _So much for now. Hope you've enjoyed it._  



	11. Shots and Screams

Lazaruss :"_ You didn't think i forgot about you, did you ?"_

* * *

" Ser, we can't just pack up and leave !"; Sigmund was saying to captain Helmut Kenner who took command after Field Marshal's death. The man was of average height with short blond hair, strongly glued to the side by an abundant layer of hair lotion. He didn't seem quite the veteran, as you would say, but the chain of command was not to be questioned. The man was sweating a lot. He seemed ill and with nausea, but he refused the doctor's inspection, biding his time to perform the necessary packing arrangements. He seamed very sick. 

They were outside Captain's tent with men and women swarming by them like ants in their final arrangements before the departure. Despite the sky, wind was not as strong as it should be. A little more than a breeze. They all half expected to have their tents blown away by now, and the preparations were moving even faster.

Night around them was being banished by a number of electric lights placed around the canopy where Kenner stood at his desk studying the map of the region to choose the fastest root. Not even the grizzly fate of their previous superior kept him from having most of the men loading the gear on trucks, and keeping only a few to protect him. Sigmund had to give him credit for that. It was a surprise to find him in such small company when he came to speak his mind.

Dawn was still far away, with the night swallowing that terrifying black pillar which obscured the Sun for the past day. But that didn't bring any relief at all, for angry black clouds were now rolling above the small camp, dispatching lightnings to scrape the earth in their name. Storm was looming over their heads, as if waiting to break the downpour and soak the roads till they are unusable, and this wasn't even rain season. No one noticed from where the clouds gathered. It was as if the stars were at once extinguished, and only the boiling blackness remained. But now it was too dangerous to stop and look – should the rain catch them, they'll be stuck in mud for weeks. They had to get to Cairo as soon as possible.

But Sigmund didn't agree. The creature was loose on the world now, and they had to hunt it down by any means necessary, before it… He didn't know what, but he was sure it won't be pleasant. In spite of his superiors, of whom he thought only as pagans, he was a Christian, and he couldn't help but wonder had they unleashed a Hellspawn, if not Lucifer him self. They had to set their sin aright !

" I have permitted you to speak freely, and heard your words, soldier. " captain Kenner spoke, rubbing at his temples with glowed fingers. Did he have a headache as well ?" Believe me, nothing would please me more than to kill Professor Barker, but I cannot risk us being trapped here… "

" Send a radio to Berlin !" Sigmund demanded " Notify them ! Let them know… "

" We had our orders from Berlin before we set out. " Kenner growled slowly leaning forward with his fists on the map " We are expandable, soldier, next to what we were sent to find !"

Sigmund had to take the next few breaths slowly :" What are you saying… " it was later that he remembered to add " … Ser ?"

" There's no reinforcements, no rescue operation. " he met his eyes with cold determination :" I'm saving who I can save. The sooner we leave this blasted continent the better ! A more equipped force will… "

" Who knows what she'll be up to by than !"; Sigmund protested

" SOLDIER !" Captain Kenner snapped :" I will hear no more of it, or I'll shoot you my self and let you here to bleed to death ! Am I understood ?"

" Yes Ser. " Sigmund growled. It was clear to him than that fear has taken deeper root than he thought at first. How could it not, with all that happened, that is still happening ? But what could he do ? What did he dare do between his service to the Fatherland and his duty to as a human being ?

Unfortunately, he never got the chance to find out, for yet another scream reached them from somewhere in the camp. Sigmund growled again ; Now what ? What else could possibly go to hell ? Was all this not enough already ? God, he was tired of all these nightmares creeping in on them. A gunshot followed. And another scream. Captain Kenner seemed not to notice, at once having noticeable difficulty with breathing. Shots were coming from all over the camp as if they were attacked !

Slowly, captain Kenner took his gun… And pointed it at Sigmund, face baring fixed puzzlement as if he didn't understand what he sees before him, mouth half parted, and eyes somehow tilted... And than his eyes were gone, replaced by black wool. That was the best word for it – black wool or clouds of smoke. He sweated a lot now and his breathing sounded like squeaking of bad car brakes.

The other guards around them seemed puzzled, but someone started shooting before they could act. Sigmund dropped to the ground, knocking the map table before him as a cover, hoping for a cover, but within seconds none of them was left alive. He gazed horrified as a hand of a dying guard fell over the edge of the desk, fingers almost brushing him. It was still twitching for a few long heartbeats, before pulling back, dropping on the ground next to the corpse.

There was barely time to realize what had happened before the gun hilt landed furiously to the back of his head.

* * *

Peter was loading the last of the medical supplies onto the truck #27. His strong muscles easily lifted the heavy metal box on the back, with a small 'thud'. The only thing left to do was to tear down that hospital tent, bind the boards and the cloth together and load them too. Next to him Greta was helping her self to some aspirin in the stack. She didn't feel well lately, the poor girl, all nausea and headache. No wonder with all the strange happenings that's bean going on and all the running around this bloody camp. Peter him self felt a little sick, but he didn't stop to worry about it with so much work thrown at him. He saw others in the similar condition, though, and that was worrying him, but he still couldn't drop his work for it. If there was a disease loose, Doctor Gruber will see to it. That was his job. 

" Are you feeling better, Greta ?" he asked over his shoulder, easily pulling the long stake out of the ground. He loved displaying his strength before her. Women in uniforms were always attracting him.

" Much better now… " she spoke while closing the medicine kit. Her sloping auburn hair did look pretty in the truck lights, especially blown on this soft wind and glistening with her sweat. Without hesitating for her to turn, he grabbed another stake and ripped it out just as easily. Few people here could do such a thing and it was a pleasure to demonstrate it to her. He wanted her to watch him tear this entire tent down to…

A deafening noise filled his ears, and he tossed his head up in annoyance. The truck tire had burst. Well, damn him if he'll be the one to replace it. He turned to ask her to call for someone else to do it, but somewhere in mid step, he staggered, dropping the tent stake and grabbing for his chest where the bullet passed right trough his lung. Blood was already filling his big palm. A gun was smoking in Greta's hand and a faint echo of the shoot was still in the air around them. Her stare was all twisted, almost insane. She seemed like a lunatic with that twisted eyes…

Someone screamed far away. No. He smiled to him self. She did not just shoot him. She did not… The gun fired again and this time he felt the bullet piercing his side. The pain made him dizzy, but he had no strength to scream. No strength ? He was the strongest guy here ! He had the strength for anything ! Blood filled his mouth and spilled down his lower lip. He felt as if someone has placed a brick wall between his throat and his chest, leaving him to gasp for breath.

Greta… Fair Greta… He wanted to ask her… The gun fired again and he fell to his knee trying to hold his wounds closed with bare hands. She kept on shooting. Distant screams and other shots filled his deaf ears, trying to get to him, to reach him, but he was beyond it. He could see only her and her dead eyes. Dead eyes, like black cotton stuffed in her face. Endless caverns of shadow on her pretty face.

The pain was gone, replaced by a strange floating sensation. He was looking at the foggy scene below him growing more distant. It felt very nice, as if all the weight was lifted off him. He knew everything he chose to know, and saw many of the things that slipped him before, the water in the clouds, the beauty of sparkling dust in the moving air, the smell of his mother's kitchen… He was looking at his bleeding body lying in the dirt pulling away from him, sinking down into the mist. A woman in a uniform had dropped the gun and was beginning to drag it somewhere to the north.

And he saw a long black cord that was touching her, drilling into her like a rope made of transparent tar. It was cutting its way into her soul, crippling her mercilessly, forcing her to do the things she didn't want to do. Other cords were stretching all over the camp, twisting and tightening their grip on all those poor people. He wanted to go down and help them somehow, but it got lost somewhere along the way trough that long bright tunnel… His mother's kitchen…

* * *

" Are you all right Jack ?" Yrona asked trying to catch a glimpse of him over the tent. It was hard to move in her bonds and the gunshot wound in her right arm was throbbing when ever she would move it. Jack was in worse shape, but at least they've stopped using him as a punching sack. 

" Just a little dizzy, that's all. "; he whispered from the other side of the tent. The very sound of him was ill. From what she could see he was near sicking up, all green in his face and almost panting for air. Beads of sweat were glistening on his forehead.

" He needs a doctor. "; she urged to one of the guards in the room hoping they'll understand her. They have treated her arm – they must be willing to treat him as well.

The tent was not so bright any more. Since they've taken Eidolon's cage away, they took most of the lights as well. Only the oil lamps were left for the rest of the prisoners. Yrona was very worried for Eidolon, and frightened too by her strange behavior. Compared to her, Jack seemed healthy as an ox. At least he could be nurtured back to health, something Yrona wasn't sure she could say for her.

She had no doubts any more that her illness was somehow connected to the uncovering of the knight's tomb, and she couldn't help but review all the horror novels she knew in her head. As much as she wanted to find some rational explanation for her friend's condition, she couldn't, not after seeing her behavior in the cage. It was a terrifying experience. At one point Yrona thought she would reach trough the bars and… She shuddered despite the warmness in the tent.

So, Eidolon was possessed or something, and the only thing Jack was fit for was a bed at the Intensive Care. It all came down to her. If she could only untie her bonds, she might be able to do something, make a diversion, free Jack, send a radio for help… But the nod was tight and she only had her left arm to work with. It was frustrating.

Men who were guarding them seamed uneasy, five of them in total, and three had the same symptoms like Jack. Some kind of a Jungle fever, she thought. One of the healthy ones spoke a few words to the rest, asking each a question she didn't understand, but it was the same question. The three sick guards barely answered, with one failing to hear it until they shouted it to him three times. He only shook his head in reply.

The guard who did the asking, looked at her and Jack worriedly, but other than that, he did nothing. Yrona assumed it meant he had orders that were against leaving the tent, even to get a doctor. They all had, regardless of the fear which painted their faces in cold colors. One of them was praying under his breath. It sounded like a prayer. She was loathed by this barbaric cruelty, even to these soldiers. War was always the worst part of history. In her opinion, history was too evident of the greatness of human folly, so unlike geology where one needed her whole wits to do the job. She could never understand Jack's and Eidolon's constant effectuation with it.

A gun fired somewhere within the camp arousing the guards and scattering her thoughts. Even Jack gazed at the direction where it came from. Someone screamed, and shots and shouts started to arrive from all directions. Before Yrona could begin to comprehend, two of the guards fell like logs, shot by their comrades and she screamed in cold terror as three sets of shadowy eyes rested upon her. There were no eyes, just empty sockets full of darkness, bubbling out trough their eyelids. Without a word, they cut the bonds which held her and Jack, dropping them to the ground like sacks, still holding them in the sight of their guns. Landing on her wounded arm made her grunt with pain. By the time they were on the floor, only silence was reaching them from the camp.

And just as she thought it can't get any worse, _something_ walked into the tent. The creature was wearing one of their uniforms and had the resemblance of a man, but it was not a man. Corpse-pale, almost white skin enclosed in a web of fade blue and green veins was marking a face full of evil and malice, all seeping from crimson red eyes in a set of blackened eyelids. Yrona could feel the very air in the room get considerably colder, spraying her skin with goosebumps, and she knew in her bones that this was something unnatural.

The thing only had three fingers on each hand with big black nails that seemed dangerously sharp, and as he stretched his lips in a deviant grin, they spilled out a pair of glittering fangs stained in something which was beyond doubt human blood.

His very presence soaked the tent with fear and dominance, but as his eyes fell on her, all the chilliness that engulfed them seemed to waver. For a few moments, surprise entered his gaze as they met her and he became somewhat insecure, just a little crack in his smooth icy surface. Yrona was too terrified to avert her sight but he averted his mercifully.

The three sick guards fell to their knees before him all wearing some kind of demented zombie-expressions, and he, tossing one glance on the prisoners, hissed something half loud which was enough for the others to lift her and Jack – who still seemed very sick – on their feet. At least they were careful of her arm this time.

Yrona was terrified. She didn't have a clue about what was going on, but she didn't want that… Creature anywhere near her, nor to let these black-eyed freaks touch her. She wanted to scream as they grabbed her, but it got stuck in her throat as the Creature came closer, its big amber eyes upon her, and his breath burning her face.

" Master Dumah is expecting you. "; he whispered sounding like a poisonous snake fizzling his forked tongue. And those eyes looked like a filthy flame, all bloody and twisted ; air was refusing to fill her lungs under these eyes.

Hands bound behind their back, she and Jack were showed out into the murky night led by the Creature. Yrona was too horrified to speak. The thing seemed to keep his eye on her even with his back turned. It gave her the chills. God, what was this thing ? It was wearing a German uniform, but it wasn't even a human treading before them. And what did it do to the soldiers who were now pushing them on north to the hill ? It had to be his doing ! Lightnings licked the distant horizon illuminating briefly their heavy black clouds.

Vaguely, she became aware of others moving along with them, men and women in uniforms, diggers and workers... She couldn't see far trough the dark, but she heard them all around threading over the branches and leaves, and she could wager at least some had the same shadowy eyes as the three who were herding her. Sometimes they would pass by close enough for her to make sure. Some were dragging dead soldiers behind them with little care for the body, sometimes shot trough and mangled like a Swish cheese. One woman with auburn hair was bothering, slowly dragging the corps of a large man for the leg. No one stopped to give her a hand, but she didn't ask for it ether, dragging her heavy load up the hill.

They were all dead, Yrona realized. As ridiculous as it seemed, she and Jack were the only two who were still alive. She could bet every penny on it. And than she thought of something else ; those people were probably as sick as the soldiers who were guarding them. As sick as Jack was ! She tried to catch a glimpse of him, but he was far behind now at the base of the slope struggling to climb where they were forcing him. They got separated. Tears started leaking down her cheeks and she started praying under her breath as they pushed her on oblivious to everything else.

The crowd was denser up the slope. People were falling to their knees near the hill's top, slowly swaying in the rhythm of a common whisper, spoken like a chant :

" …_Dumah… Dumah… Dumah… Dumah… "_

Others were still dragging the dead on, and now she could see they were piling them at the top and would retreat back to kneel and join the chanting. A few small torches set around the pile were just enough to enable her to see it from afar. That was where they were taking her ! To the pile of corpses ! Why ? Did they want to shoot them there and drop them in too ? She wanted to run, but the people were so crammed here she wouldn't get two steps away. No… The Creature said this Dumah was expecting them. Master Dumah ? Over there ? She didn't understand any of this !

As if thinking of him could summon him, the Creature turned and faced her once more. Once more did she meet those hard eyes, now occupied with her, probing, examining… She felt like a freak with him staring at her so. Growled under his breath to their escort was the only thing necessary to have them back away into the shadow with a curt bow, along with the people who were kneeling and chanting all around them. They backed away, leaving them alone. She didn't want to be alone with… that _thing_ !

For a while longer he held his ruby gaze on her, but she didn't dare look back at him. She didn't think he would avert his sight this time. After this short eternity, he whispered to her, drowning all the other voices beneath his words :

" I know what you feel… "; he said. It wasn't just that she was more focused on his words, it was as if the whole world at once went mute :" We can feel the emotions in your blood. I don't want you to be afraid. "

" Wh… Wh… "; she tried to utter

" Hush. "; he spoke reaching that horrid three-fingered claw for her hair, but she managed to back away just beyond his reach. Rage flared up again in his eyes, but withdrew the next instant and his presence became somewhat more appealing. And more dominant :" I shall have you, fair Yrona. Master can find others to serve as garments for his brothers. I shall have you even if I have to give up his favor. "

Yrona could only bulge her eyes and hold them that way. She wasn't even afraid to meet his gaze any more. This was getting ridiculous ! She must be going mad. That was it ; she was simply going mad ! He smiled at her with those awful fangs sticking out of his mouth :

" You will come to believe me, my lovely. You'll be a Goddess in the Garden of Eden and the world will kneel to worship the ground you walk upon. I shall cast them there to worship it, and they'll offer you their souls to try and bring smile to your face. "

" I… don't want any souls… "; she managed faintly

" You will. "; his grin never wavered offering strange assurances in his claims, and she was frightened all over again :" I want you, fair Yrona, and I always get what I want. "

Sounds assaulted her the moment he turned back and they were in the middle of the crowd once more. Yrona would laugh if she wasn't frozen with terror, panting for sweet African air with the appetite of a drowning man. Jack was back next to her. They've managed to climb him up the slope, though he still seemed barely able to stand. At least his eyes were still normal. She didn't think she could stand him turning into black-eyed zombie on her. That was, she desperately hoped he wouldn't.

" Are you bearing up ?"; she whispered

" Shhh… "; he winked at her :" I'm just faking it. See, I fooled you too. "

She smiled the best she could, but the lie was obvious on his tongue. He was just trying to soothe her.

It was in that moment that the crowd had gone quiet, and the two of them were being forced towards the pile of bodies. The others were making a wide circle kneeling around it, but the two of them, led by the Creature were taken straight to it, and there Yrona gasped, nearly chocking to death with her own tongue. Her mind almost froze at the sight of what was once her friend :

" … Eidolon ?"; she stammered and Jack dropped down next to her, staring in revulsion at what he saw before him.

* * *

Lazaruss : _"I hope that sufices."_


	12. On the Northern Hill

Lazaruss :"_ Sorry for the delay. Hope you'll like the next chapter. _"

* * *

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**Chapter Eleven ; On the Northern Hill**

The camp had been emptied but there were many tracks leading north. This evil storm hadn't erased them yet. Night was painted in thick boiling clouds, swiftly rolling above their heads, vomiting sizzling lightnings every now and then, yet there wasn't enough wind beneath them to stir dust of the path through the ruined camp.

Nm'bopo was crouched, examining the footprints in the dirt. There was a lot of movement here, some on foot, some being dragged, but all towards north. The chaos left behind was difficult to sort through with the battle that had happened the night before, yet these recent tracks were plain even in the dark.

Almost all the tents were ravaged and destroyed now, their white canopies torn and mangled, and broken poles sticking out like spears on an ancient battlefield. The invaders brought their own tents, and had set them up on the other side of the excavation area, yet from here he saw that camp too being dismantled. They had been packing to leave not long ago, but something happened that interrupted them.

Nm'bopo groaned to him self silently ; His his knees felt like they were filled with nails. And his feet were on fire. All the running to the tribe and back has drained his strength. The cool moist air at once turned hot and useless like sulfur fume upon reaching his lungs and his heart was trying to race it self out of his chest. Sweat was leaking from him in a flood, it would seem, and he was already using up his third water bag.

But he wouldn't rest yet. Even on the brink of collapsing he wouldn't allow himself to linger for a moment ! Not when Miss Barker was in trouble. He had failed his kin once before and he won't fail anyone again ! Especially not her and her friends. It was an effort to get up, bending those burning knees that seamed as if they would grind them selves, but there was no other choice.

Kaheina and the other six warriors were scattered around, looking for tracks too and no doubt, they'd come to the same conclusions. They were coming closer to him, rather than have him walk to them, which was a merciful gesture. During this race, they all thought he would slow them down, yet now they were beginning to regard him with… respect. However, his stamina was no reason to disregard the past.

" The fire on the northern hill burns bright against this foul darkness. "; Kaheina spoke, while testing his bowstring. The other warriors took up their spears and bucklers :" Or perhaps it burns with it. "

" With it. "; Nm'bopo said

" The woman is there. "; said one younger warrior. Nm'bopo didn't bother to learn their names. There were many new faces in the tribe, but none of those would converse with him :" All who still live are there now. "

" There's a lot of blood. "; said the other, looking around :" As if they have killed each other in some kind of frenzy. "

Suddenly, another voice came to them, an old woman riding a gray animal that was very fast. Nm'bopo barely heard her, next to the pounding his heart was making in his ears, and it took the others' turning to make him notice. It was Oldmamah :

" Wait !"; she shouted, waving :" By your Ancestors, wait !"

The village medicinewoman was riding a strange beast which appeared like a zebra… only without stripes… What ever it was, its speed was impressive. How could she have ridden it after them, blind as she was, was beyond Nm'bopo. The woman had strong ju-ju and medicine to achieve such a thing. But if she had such a creature, she could have offered the animal to him, instead of having him run all across savanna !

The warriors made the animal room to stop, helping their medicinewoman dismount, and once she assured them she was uninjured, she turned straight for Nm'bopo, her glassy eyes fixed upon him.

" Hear me, Nameless One, son of Ma'gahn and Chala "; her boney finger pointing at him as if she could see him before her :" Hear me and listen, for upon your back, the Ancestors have decided to place the burden of our fate ! On your acts will the world's destiny brake and yours will be the will that must stand up against the Evil !"

Nm'bopo took a few deep breaths, but didn't respond. It was his task to save his friend. As for anything else, he wasn't sure he had the strength.

" Hear me all of you, Children of the Old Law ; the time has come to prove to our fathers and mothers that we are their blood, and face what they have faced in an age beyond memory. An evil which has plagued them, now seeks to plague us, and given the chance, it will consume the world in its hunger ! Listen well now, and learn how to fight !"

" Why ?"; Nm'bopo asked, drawing all the attention :" Why me, a nameless outcast, with a sin to bear ? I can barely stand. What kind of Ancestors would choose me of all their descendents ?"

" I agree. "; Kaheina spoke :" Give me the task. I have both strength and a name. I am the right choice. "

" Do not question !"; Oldmamah shrieked and the bottom of her large staff hit the ground. At once, the seemingly never-blowing wind howled at them from all sides, making clouds of dust leap off the ground, startling the warriors. The wind died along with Oldmamah's yell, and she resumed :" The time for choosing is done and the scale has measured ! Do you dare dispute the Wisdom of the Spirits ? Now ?"

Nm'bopo sighed. Upon his back was the fate of his people suppose to brake, was it ? And he should be glad to jump at the task ? His people, who labeled him an outcast, exiled him from the tribe and rejected him. His people, who broke his heart and the heart of the woman he loved. And now his people needed his help ? After all this time, he didn't feel all that egger to rush to their aid.

" Let go of the bitterness, Nm'bopo. "; Oldmamah said, as if she knew what he was thinking, and Kaheina gasped at the fact that she had used his name. Only the Chief could call upon the name of the Nameless One, and only in rare occasions.

Taking a few long breaths, Nm'bopo met her gaze on equal terms.

" I will do as you ask. "; he said :" So long as you help the woman. "

The tightness seamed to enter her eyes, but they couldn't be sure with that black wooden mask on :" I will do what I can to bring her back, "; she spoke hesitantly :" but she may be beyond aid. "

Nm'bopo nodded, and they all gathered around to listen as Oldmamah explained the means to fight the Evil One and his minions. He listened intently while she talked, ignoring his ailing legs. Pain didn't matter. Only Miss Barker's safety metered.

* * *

About five or six long torches were stabbed around the huge pile of at least fifty dead people, most of them in German uniforms. Not even on the height of the hilltop was the wind blowing thought clouds still rolled across the sky, exchanging a flash of thunder between them every now and then. People on the slopes had stopped chanting, just kneeling calmly with their black shadowy orbs for eyes staring bluntly before them. Some of them were bleeding or dribbling. Others were acting as if they were trying to cut their hair off with their nails. Some were chewing their clothes, or even raw bleeding flesh that didn't seem to have any recognizable source. But the only two _real_ persons didn't see any of that. 

" … Eidolon ?"; Yrona stammered as Jack dropped down next to her, staring in revulsion at what he saw before him.

On top of the pile of bodies was Eidolon, hovering in the air a foot above the top like she was suspended on invisible ropes, her now completely black hair spilling loose across her shoulders like oil. Except for an occasional twitch, she seemed completely absent, with red, almost burning eyes fixed straight before her and her head tilted left. She seemed like she was hanged ! Even in the darkness of the night, it was clear that her skin had gone completely white, with a broken web of blue veins veins all over its surface.

And around her neck was the medallion they've uncovered in the night's tomb, a coin of black silver with a copper line engraved on it. The thing was glowing like molten metal.

Blood of corpses beneath her was flowing up the pile, like it was being collected through a network of veins, and on up jumping to her boots and over her clothes into her wide opened mouth full of sharp teeth. No, not mouth ; a maw.

As Yrona spoke, the blood flow stirred and ended, splashing back down over the bodies and Eidolon slowly descended on the pile, landing on her arms and legs. Swiftly like some kind of a huge spider, she crawled on all four down to the ground. And than she paused. For a moment she seemed like she struggles with something, her eyes growing less crimson, and she whispered :

" … forrrr…givemehhh… "; before the amber in her pupils rekindled again

She stood up as if she didn't know how to use her wrists and knees, and snarled in anger, spitting hot steam through those awful jaws :

" _Silence, whelp !"_; came the angry voice from her, a dual voice as if a man and a woman were speaking together in an echo :_" I am the Master !"_

At once, that creature which led them there ran to aid her, but something stopped him like he hit and invisible barrier, and she gave him an icy frown. It made him avert his eyes in a respectful manner.

Yrona was too abhorred to speak. This creature, which seemed bathed in blood, this was not Eidolon. She could see it. She could see the mass of angry black strips emanating from her like shadowy tentacles, losing them selves in the distance. The things made the night seem bright ! And she thought she could barely see Eidolon, trapped and entwined within them, futile struggling to brake free, as if she was a layer behind the thing which now stood before them. She thought she could see all that just beyond the corner of her eye. Maybe she was going mad.

" Eidolon… "; she asked, and the thing that was her friend grinned at her. The horrid grin made her shiver to her toes.

" _Not any more. "_; she spoke and the others started chanting again :

" _Dumah… Dumah… Dumah… "_

She rose her arm, just that, and they've stopped.

" _Dumah, mortals. "_; she… he… whatever… hissed in delight :" _Dumah, the Unstoppable, Herald of Endings, Maker of Hopeless, The Third Son of Almighty Kain !"_

The crowd rose their voices again :

" _Dumah… Dumah… Dumah… "_; and Eidolon silenced them the same way as she did before.

Yrona finally found her tongue :" What do you want ?!"; she barely uttered, though she wanted to scream

" _CHAOS !"_; the monster boomed :" _Destruction ! All the flesh in the world will be stone, and stone will be flesh !_"; it laughed, the medallion flaring like the thunder :" _And the sun which rises above the earth each day, will set, never to rise again ! And you two… "_; Yrona drew back before the clawed finger, now pointing at her :"_ … you two shall find your fate, enslaved by the chains of my brothers' will !"_

" Master. "; the creature which led them here, spoke :" Let me have the girl ! Leave your brothers to fend for them selves !"

Eidolon swayed and the red in her eyes flickered again, and she seemed to clench something in her fist… Yes, it was Nm'bopo's necklace ! But if it was here, than Nm'bopo must be... Yrona averted her eyes. Dead like everyone else. She and Jack were the only two left. An instant later, Dumah returned :

" _You want this woman, Sardas ?"_; he asked.

" I'll make her into my queen and a warrior for your glory !"; Sardas grinned at Yrona, making her bulge :" And I promise you Master, under my care, she will make you proud. Your faithful servant, and first-born asks this small favor of you ; let me have her. "

Silence stretched for a while, as Eidolon's head shook and shivered chaotically, and when she opened her eyes, she turned that psychotic gaze on the pair on the ground. Yrona tried to back away as Dumah reached for her. She really did try, but she was at once frozen to the spot as the demon gripped her face and started to examine it with little to none gentleness.

" _I will give you to her, my child… "_; Dumah said putting a smile on Sardas's face :" _If you manage to find a replacement for her, before I hand her over to my brothers. "_

But his smile didn't slacken, as Sardas shouted : " Bring forth the replacement !"

Jack was attempting to stand again, and wasn't managing, but Yrona couldn't notice. They were treating her as a pig on the market ! A _replacement_ was being brought _instead_ of her ! Honestly, she didn't know whether to scream or cry or just sit down and laugh ! They were arguing about _owning_ her ! And where will she end up in the end ? She didn't want for this Sardas to have her, but she wasn't all too eager to fall into Eidolon's… that was Dumah's hands either. Oh God ; she was being sold to slavery ! And worse yet, it was her soul that was being sold ! She wanted to cry.

And within seconds, they've brought the _replacement_. A pair of those black-eyed zombies brought – dragged, was a more accurate term – a barely conscious German soldier with short black hair and a blood smear on the back of his head. He was still moving, floundering in their grasp, but he was struggling at the brink of consciousness, groaning with pain. The two zombies – Yrona thought that was what they were – simply dropped him on the ground, stepping back as respectfully as they could in their retarded condition.

Sardas took the German by the hair, yanking his head up, making him groan again :

" A fitting replacement, isn't it ?"; he flashed that fanged smile back at Dumah.

" … Jorgen… "; the German spoke, but hissing like a viper, Sardas slapped him with the back of his hand, making blood spray out of his mouth.

Eidolon was smiling sadistically as she stepped closer. At once she roughly pressed two fingers on the man's head dragging them through the blood smear like she was trying to rip his scalp off just by that. Those dark tentacles flared wildly in Yrona's mind's eye as she tasted the blood from her fingers. She seemed like she was in ecstasy !

Yrona was just about to turn and run, to give in and finally snap under all these horrors, when she found Jack standing by her. He finally managed to stand up, though he still seemed unsteady like he was near fainting. Yet, he was determined. He was angry. He wasn't afraid or panicking. Instead he just stood there, glaring at Eidolon and Sardas like he wants to pick a fight with them !

Yrona's mouth worked soundlessly as she tried to tell him to get down before they notice, or to drop the farce when he could barely stand, or… anything, just not to have him killed for his hotheadedness. But she never managed.

" I have had enough !"; the fool snarled, a roar to clench Yrona's heart :" I don't know if you are drugged, or brainwashed, bitten by a malarias mosquito, or if you've simply had a load of strange mushrooms for dinner, but I won't tolerate this nonsense any more Eidolon !"

Yrona's eyes were bulging out of her head. She was still trying to say something, anything, but no understandable words came out. The fool, the stubborn fool, was going to end up dead ! Yes, he was going to die and leave her alone in this madness !

" No, Jack, don't… "; she managed finally, but he wouldn't heed her.

" Now, you drop this lunatic charade right this instant, "; he growled :" or, so help me, I'll smack your bottom till you sit tender for a month !"

Too late. Both of the monsters were looking at him with those red-glowing eyes burning against the night. They were looking at him somewhat puzzled as if they've never seen his like before, but there was also anger. Life threatening anger. Yrona tried to grab for his sleeve and pull him back, but Jack didn't even flinch. He was meeting that gaze levelly, panting through the nose, grim as if he'd just come out of a street brawl, and was ready to leap head forth into the next !

Sardas stepped into the torchlight, his face all outrage and fury. His eyes flared like red amber and his lips peeled back revealing his clenched jowl :

" Please let me hurt him, Master !"; he hissed :" Let me show him pain !"; but there was no answer.

" Master ?"; Sardas turned.

Eidolon was unsteady. She was swaying, her eyes loosing that intense reddish flame :

" …No..o… "; she uttered, sounding like her self :" … can't… can't let… youhhhh… "; that dual echo was gone.

" Master !"; Sardas shouted and ran to her, but she collapsed. He managed to put her back on her feet :" Master, please, devour her ! You are still weak from the Forces you've unleashed. The Magic you have used has drained you. Your powers have just woken ! Don't let her torture you any more !"

" _ENOUGH !_"; Dumah shouted, slapping Sardas so strong he flew a dozen paces, crashing into the pile of corpses :" _Do you dare doubt me, Sardas ? Do you question my power ? Do you doubt my strength ? You think I can't brake her pathetic soul ?_"

And against all expectation, Sardas stood right up. That blow should have broken his neck !

" Forgive me, Master… "; he whimpered: " It is only out of concern for your well being that I urge you to… "

" _No !"_; Dumah snarled :"_ I want to own her ! I want to wield her ! She is my pet, and I'll tame her, Sardas !_"; Sardas uttered to say something, but her voice fell to a hiss :"_ Don't even dare mention this again !_"

Sardas only bowed his head, yet his expression was more than bitter.

" _Don't think I have forgotten about you… _"; Dumah pointed his claw towards Jack :" _A lot of interesting methods of pain can be learned in a thousand years, and I'll enjoy introducing you to them !_"

Despite Yrona's tugging, Jack still grinned like a moron :

" And I thought you were licking toads, when in fact you've lived a thousand years, huh,… _Dumah_ ? Could you tell me if Leonardo Da' Vinci was really gay ? I bet you know first hand. Or, did Shakespeare write 'Romeo and Juliet' _while_ you were dating, or _after_ he duped you ?"

Eidolon swayed her head in struggle again. She seemed to be gripping that tooth tighter in her hand. Yrona thought she'll sway too, gripping Jack's sleeve tighter, not to faint.

" Uuuuu ; 'a lot of interesting method's of pain'… "; Jack retorted :" Don't tell me you've had a crush at _Marquise de Sadde,_ too ? Couldn't find less kinky boyfriends in those 'thousand years' ?"

Duma's roar shook the creatures around them. All over the hill, the black-eyed people howled half loudly like the wind wines around sharp turns of a mountain, and the clouds above them were at once colored in pale-blue and black. The night boiled even more intensely and the monster hurled something at them. It seemed as though he threw something, but Eidolon's hand was empty. And Jack screamed.

He fell on the ground in intense seizure, screaming through clenched teeth, and Yrona wailed :

" Stop it ! Stop doing this to him !"

But the thing that was suppose to be her friend just grinned with those awful teeth, and those long strips of black flared, bending and twisting. And Yrona could see them flowing into Jack. She saw countless of them, drilling into him. And upon reaching Jack, they turned red, like heated iron pokers, stabbing in from all sides ! It wasn't 'seeing' exactly, more like 'imagining', but it was very easy to imagine.

" Stop it, Eidolon !"; she cried :" Stop… "

That was as far as she managed for those strips lunched for her too, and merciless pain clenched her. She couldn't speak or move or think, she could only scream under this torrent. The agony was paralyzing, beyond burning or anything else she could imagine. Vaguely, she caught Sardas's face ; he wasn't grinning. He was looking at Eidolon sadly, wondering if he should dare speak. But she couldn't even begin to care.

And suddenly, the pain stopped. Yrona felt the blessed relief instantly, but she was exhausted, barely able to move. She laughed. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. She thought she was bleeding somewhere, but she couldn't care ; the pain was gone… The pain was gone… It was... gone...

As she managed to regain some hold on her intelligence, the question came to her ; why was it gone ? Why did it stop ? As unlikely as it seemed, did the monster simply released them out of whim ? She managed to open her eyes and see…

The black-eyed zombies were on their feet, howling and readying their claws, and Sardas and Dumah were snarling and hissing with burning anger. There were people there ! Real, live, people ! Yrona wanted to cry again. She wasn't even sure how she stopped, but there were people there ! They were Africans, Bushmen, and that was Nm'bopo ! It really was him ! He seemed as exhausted as she felt right now, but he was alive ! They were all so beautifully alive !

With them was an old woman, dressed in a garment of dried grass and raven feathers, with a mask of charred wood over her face. In her right hand she had a big staff that seemed all too heavy for her, but she wielded it with ease, and around her were the other Zulu warriors, including Nm'bopo.

And what made Yrona particularly glad, was the fact that at least a dozen zombies lay motionless around them, stabbed through with spears and arrows.

Dumah was steaming with raw anger and cold fury, his black soul rippling its strips around like a twister of black dust :

" _That… _"; for all the rage, his words were cold as ice and anvil hard as he faced the newcomers :_" …was a mistake. "_

* * *

Lazaruss :"_ Well, i think that Jack is going to become a favorite character after this. I'll try not to make him into a too big hothead. "  
_


	13. Battle Drums

Lazaruss :_" Sorry about the delay. I've been a little taken aback by death of Robert Jordan, my favorite writer. Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy this next chapter. "_

* * *

**Chapter Twelve ; Battle Drums**

At once the atmosphere had changed. The sky still boiled, the wind was still dead, and the lightnings still refused to reach the land, but one could just taste the shift in the air. The black-eyed people were on their feet fingers clawed and mouth gaping, with rage uniting their wails. Next to all of them, the Zulu warriors seemed like statues with those blank unreadable faces, but determined still, in spite of such an army. They did not seem scared or upset even though they were badly outnumbered. And the zombies, or what ever they were, didn't have guns on them. They must have dropped them so they could drag the bodies up the hill, and considering that, the odds didn't seem so odd any more.

Or maybe Yrona was just kidding her self.

The flame of the torches grew larger and darker, with black chard smoke rising into the clouds. Sardas was hissing through his fangs, his red eyes blazing in the night and the zombies hissed and wailed with him, but Eidolon was simply standing there, her face bleak, and those angry black strips whirling around her. Her eyes were fixed on an old woman in the midst of other Zulu warriors. There was something odd about her too… Yrona couldn't tell what it was, but she felt somehow… peculiar.

Suddenly raising her fist, Eidolon silenced Sardas and the others. Yrona used that moment of silence to crawl to Jack and check up on him. He was still breathing but he was unconscious, and unfortunately, Yrona didn't know whether that was good or bad. She only knew that he badly needed a doctor, and she was not sure she'll be able to find one in time. Hell, who knows what this 'Dumah' even did to him, or how to treat it ! As it was, she could only grab hold of his hand and hope.

The old woman was now stepping forth and the other warriors gave her room to pace. When she spoke, it was not on any language Yrona could make out, but it somehow sounded familiar to her :

" I see you, Night Lord !"; Oldmamah spoke, her glassy, colorless eyes fixed on Eidolon :" The land cries beneath you. I hear its woe and I am here to end it. "

" I thought I have exterminated your kind, Witch. "; Dumah replied in the same language, no dual voice this time, only his own, merciless, strong and ruthless :" I watched the life fade from the last of your blood's eyes as I destroyed him. In mercy I gave him a swift death, and chewed his flesh and sucked his bones dry. With you, I shall not be so kind. With you, I shall play until you scream and beg me to devour everything you care for. "

" From me, you shall get only what you deserve. "; she said :" No more and no less ! The strength of my ancestors is behind me, and the power of Light unites us across the ages. We shall see you on your way to the abyss before this day dawns. "

" Deal with the others, Sardas !"; he sneered :" She is mine !"

" As you command, Master. "; Sardas replied, though reluctantly. He clearly didn't want to leave Dumah to fight this old woman alone, but he was smart enough not to stand up to him more than once in a single night.

Just like that, the Bushmen ran down the hill, leaving Oldmamah behind, and on Sardas's roar, the zombies stormed after them, a mob of mindless bodies, more beasts than men, more things than beasts, and Sardas herding them on like cattle. They all ran like an angry mob next to Yrona and Jack and as for Eidolon and the old woman, they were apparently pretending to be statues. Before Sardas went too, he tossed one last glance of uncertainty on the two of them, struggling between his orders and his loyalty. But still he complied and with one last grin at Yrona, he too vanished in the impenetrable darkness.

Yrona could still hear them running down the mountain, screaming and wailing like lunatics, but her attention was on Eidolon and the old woman. They seemed to just stare at each other, ignoring her and Jack completely.

That was her chance. She could lift Jack on her shoulders and take him away. Surely they can make it to a truck or some other vehicle. But when she tried to lift herself, she only groaned and collapsed back down. The pain that Dumah afflicted upon her drained her of her strength completely. So much that it even hurt to think of moving.

But she HAD to ! There won't be another opportunity. She had to try. It was an extraordinary effort to just stand up, yet she restrained from making a sound as Eidolon stepped closer to the old woman :

" I applaud your bravery, Witch. "; He laughed. It was more than strange to hear Eidolon talk in that voice :" How delicious that your blood still endures in this Age. It will be a great pleasure to feast on it again. "

" You should not have come back, Night Lord !"; she held out her big staff in front of her like she intended to keep Dumah away with it :" This world has disowned you ! Your kind has no place here any more ! Go back to the nothingness from whence you came !"

Yrona barely managed to lift jack up placing his arm around her shoulders. Her muscles were screaming but she clenched her teeth and kept the scream within. Just a hint of noise and Eidolon might notice. God, she might notice anyway ! But she had to try ! And why did this idiot have to be so heavy ? If he had only kept his big mouth shut they wouldn't have bean in this situation ! She'll make him pay yet, and for having to drag him on her back on top of all the crap that happened to her ! Mark her, he will !

But before she could take three steps something exploded behind her and knocked them on the ground. She barely had time to tip Jack on the left instead of having him land over her. That would be too much weight to get out of. And as she landed on soft grass she saw what happened… what was happening.

It was not an explosion of any kind, but a duel. Eidolon's black shadowy tentacles were reaching towards the old woman, and she was replying in kind. Yrona could see it all so clearly in her mind like a vague second image just behind the real one even though her eyes saw nothing of the sort. The old woman too had this… this aura of tentacles mostly concentrated around her staff, only hers were made of bright sparks, not shadow. Nether she nor Eidolon were making any movement but they were grappling as clearly as a pair of sumo-wrestlers.

Yrona thought she was going out of her mind, but the picture was there. She could see it plainly. And every time the black tentacle would touch the white, as they would entwine in a struggle, there was a flash of energy, an explosion, a burst that knocked Yrona off her feet. Trying to stand up near that would be like trying to stand against waves of a stormy sea.

But she wouldn't give up. Her every muscle ached, but she managed to get behind Jack and started to drag him down the slope bit by bit. She had to make it to the trucks ! She had to !

* * *

Next to the agile Zulu warriors, the retarded, half-minded, black-eyed people – _Twisted_ was how Oldmamah had named them – seemed more like an avalanche down the steep sides of the hill, collapsing in a heap and rolling behind them. They no longer had a concept of pain or injury, but the dark magic which rid them of that, crippled them in other ways. That was the first part of the plan. Many of them would break their necks or worse in this run, but not nearly enough. Those who don't will have a hard time getting out of the pile which will arrive at hill's base, and there will they engage them.

Making his way swiftly like mountain goat jumping over the rocks, Kaheina took up his bow again and took his aim. His arrow struck the first rank of Twisted right trough the knee of the leader making him collapse and trip most of those near, with him. The more chaos in this descent, the better.

But than he saw Nm'bopo rolling down the hill too. Exhausted as he was, he must have tripped in this run. For a mere moment he allowed him self to pause and watch as his body was painfully making its way trough the half buried rocks and two different urges collided within his chest – to help him and to run on. He disgraced their princess, but he was still his friend, and the more of them that survive this run, the better. But how useful could Nm'bopo be at the end of his strengths ? Oldmamah seem to think he was, but Kaheina couldn't see it.

Unfortunately, he didn't have time to ponder his options any more. The Twisted were closing on him, moaning and hissing like wild beasts. The sight of them made his skin crawl. He had to go on. If Nm'bopo doesn't survive this descent, he prayed that his ancestors will welcome him back. If he does, he will be too broken up to do any good and they will have to deal with him after… if they survive the Twisted.

A testament that Oldmamah was wrong about him. Kaheina should have been given this task from the start, yet Oldmamah kept pushing Nm'bopo in. Such a man was not going to be useful in the battle to come. It still felt wrong though, but it was the most logical thing he could come up with. And besides, he never expected them to make through this without losses.

And so he ran on, pursued by the Evil Ones and praying that he made the right choice.

* * *

Gnashing her teeth in effort, Yrona managed to place Jack on the seat of the cargo truck, all packed and ready to go. Moving didn't hurt so much any more, but she still felt week. The Nazi were packing their gear fast right before the killings started and most of the trucks were fully loaded and set for departure. Those idiots were intending to flee and leave Eidolon like that. God, Eidolon ! What to do about Eidolon ? She felt awful for leaving her behind, but she could see no other way. She had to get Jack back to Cairo fast.

Slamming the dour behind her she managed to push the key in the ignition despite her shaking hand, and turn it. But the engine just wined refusing to start, and as hard as she tried, she couldn't force it to. The fuel tank was empty. Already frustrated beyond measure, she got out and went for another truck, but that one too had its tank dry. This was becoming ridiculous ! Running to the next she found the same thing – empty fuel tank. Even the canisters were gone ! That was impossible ! Where would the Nazi go in trucks with no fuel ? There had to be some ! But she couldn't find a drop of it. Where was all the gasoline ? Where was the bloody gasoline !

Suddenly, as she was running back to where she had left Jack, she felt another surge of that insane struggle on the hill's top. It did not push her away, merely swaying her somewhat, but to feel it this far, it must have been a big one. Stopping in her tracks, she looked back up at that strange battle only she could see and her heart clenched at what she saw.

The clouds were revolving in a loop above, an angry mass of gray and white with thunders tearing throughout them, making light of the torches barely necessary next to their flashes. Eidolon and the old woman were too far away to make out, but she could still see the huge auras around them, and right now, Eidolon was winning by far. The bright aura of the old woman seemed like merely a ball surrounded by vast rivers of black tar, squeezing in and chocking its light. That color was so dark to her eyes it stood against the night as much as the bright one did. Dumah was winning.

She had to do something ! She had to help her… No she had to help Jack ! But there was no gas ! She felt like she was going to burst. Yet, despite everything, she couldn't leave this woman to die, or who knows what. She had had a belly full of death. But what could she do ? Was she able to do anything ?

* * *

Dumah was enjoying Oldmamah's whimper like a surge of ecstasy. The battle with her was more than he expected, but still she wasn't up to him, a frail old crone with a spark of power and arrogance enough to think she can stand up to him. The light of her faith still flared brightly, but he was choking it without mercy, watching it fade beneath his power like a fire burning out. That was what she was using against him – faith in her gods or elders or whatever. It didn't matter in the long run. He will teach her that there is only one true god – him !

Should he rid her of the staff ? It was the focus of her faith and the faith of those before her. It was a powerful relic with at least ten generations of Imbuing and the very sight of it sickened him beyond measure. No. Let her hope. Hope is a wonderful thing, but to watch it fade slowly is an even more wonderful thing as the true agony takes hold ! True agony. He will show her what that is, how deep it can run.

The pet-woman was struggling again. Silence ! He had no time for her now. Such struggle with her. Despite all, she still refused to submit. Remarkable. Down puny one ! He slapped her back like an insignificant fledgling. You will learn some respect ! I am the master ! No. He will not destroy her spirit. She will be his trophy, the prize of his collection, a broken soul unlike any other, and by the time he is through with her, she'll laugh at the slaughter along with him. Together behind his eyes, a pet at her master's feet.

The witch had fallen on one knee and her aura was fading. At last. True agony. Wonderful. Beautiful. She knew it now. She knew how deluded she was to think she can match him. A drowning woman gasping for air. Delicious ! Rapturous ! More ! No air for you. Without knowing it he began to recite, his voice united with the voice of his host :

" _I was not the First, nor was I the first to come,_

_For he who was the First shall be the last to come !_

_The heavens will weep and the land will tremble !_

_For the age has returned and the Awakening has begun !_

_Those whose blood is warm shall freeze with ice in their vains,_

_and those who enjoy Life shall now learn to worship Death._

_The wind will moan and the waters will run dry !_

_For the age has returned and the Awakening has begun !"_

The old gods were back and they would have their due.

* * *

Lazaruss :_" Until next time. "_


	14. Nameless One

Lazaruss _:" Another scary chapter. Be warned ; you are reading at your own risk. he-he-he... _

_PS : Raphael Lafarge, when you read this, e-mail me. "_

**Chapter 13 ; Nameless One

* * *

**

Like a roaring wave crushing down upon sharp reefs, the Twisted collapsed to the base of the hill in a thick crowd which knew no tolerance. Even a herd of mad caribous at full troth would take more care of each other than these people did, clawing and running through one another without care what so ever of who might get hurt in the chaos. That was what they wanted. That was what Oldmamah said would happen, and what the plan was from the start. Kaheina wished he could stop shuddering, though. What has been done to those poor people ? What kind of evil could do such a thing to a man, to so many men ?

Arriving at the base, Kaheina led his warriors further away from the stench. The air was awful down here, clinging to the inside of their lungs and as they ran amidst the still fresh ponds, the mud was sticking to their feet in a grouse manner. What ever it was that they had spilt on the ground was not something he wanted near himself. It was unfortunate that there was no wind, despite the billowing black clouds above, or the foul odor could be dispersed somewhat. If only the Twisted would not stray away from it…

As the last of the Bushmen crossed the agreed line, they allowed themselves to gaze behind at their pursuers, some twenty paces away. Each and every one of them had no eyes, rather than infinitely deep caverns of blackness, faces twisted with beastly rage and unnatural dementia and all that was once human in them replaced by soulless bloodlust. Even the front lines of this falling malice seemed so thick with showing and pushing they looked more like a bunch of bushes caught in a storm than a group of men swiftly rolling down the slope.

A second later and the Twisted were crashing at the base in an unbelievably awkward heap, collapsing in the mud and ponds of the vile liquid that was still not absorbed in the earth, struggling to crawl from underneath one another after their pray. It was the moment they were waiting for.

His special arrow nocked, Kaheina took the aim as his friend Tsufu lit the head using his small tinderbox, and fired. As the arrow streaked through the air, the flame only took hold more strongly, making it seem like a yellowish blurry line that stood against the night in Kaheina's eyes. But as it hit the ground its fire leapt so brightly and suddenly the Bushmen had to avert their eyes.

Whatever it was that Oldmamah made them extract from those big-metal-things-on-wheels, it welcomed flame a hundred times more swiftly than dry grass. In less than an instant the entire southern base of the hill was consumed in a roaring wall of bright fire which engulfed the helpless people soaked in the smelly substance. Most of them died within seconds, their flesh burning out like tinder. Other still struggled to brake loose. Some even managed to get up and leave the fire, walking a few steps like living torches before collapsing down stabbed trough with spears and arrows.

But even as the warriors cheered their success, the horror at the sight of these burning men chilled their hearts. They didn't scream, nor squeal, nor flail in the embrace of the searing heat. Instead, despite their deaths, despite the crackling flame which swallowed them, they simply resumed their pursuit as if nothing was wrong still moaning like the wind on barren rock as they did in their descent. In the end, they all died, and none of them even noticed ; A sight too horrible to look at, too revolting to cheer at, and too unearthly to be believed.

Charred black smoke was steaming up into the dark amongst the golden tongues as the last of the calcified forms stopped twitching and the smell of burning meat overwhelmed the odor of the vile liquid. But even than the thing which the warriors smelled the most was the stench of death.

Kaheina stepped closer to the crackling flame, but stopped dead in his tracks as the sound of clapping reached him from behind. All of them instantly turned, weapons at the ready, facing the lone man behind them. He had the elaborate green suit that most of the Twisted wore, and short black hair thickly shrouding his ears and forehead. Corpse-pale white skin was cracked by a web of blue and green vains and burning red eyes watched them nestled between blackened eyelids.

Slowly clapping in an amused fashion, Sardas stepped forth from the night, facing the humans and the wall of fire. His hands were already turning into claws, aching to rend human flesh. But not yet.

" Bravo, Bravo. "; he grinned flashing his glittering fangs. Kaheina took an arrow and fired at his heart, but Sardas caught it right before it reached his chest :" I love it when my dinner struggles so. "

They started circling around him, spears and leather shields in their hands, and Sardas just stood there, peaceful, grinning at their pitiful efforts. And than he began to play with them.

That was all the effort he put into it, a simple casual dance. The humans were shouting, waving their spears as fast as they could but no one ever so much as touched him. His speed and agility was so far beyond theirs they may as well have been stuck in mud. He enjoyed doing this, flaunting his superiority like this, watching their hope fade bit by bit. It was his favorite kind of torture.

They swung their spears and he watched them pass by him. They tried shooting him with arrows and poisonous thorns from their peashooters and he caught every one. One of them tried to punch him. He humored him and the human groaned as the bones in his hand cracked.

The humans were slowing down considerably, already exhausted and week from all the running they've done to get here. It made him angry. He wanted to play some more. He wanted them to come at him with all their might until he extracts the last shreds of agony from them. He craved it ! He deserved it ! He wanted their suffering even more than their blood, to watch as their will slowly withers and dies. It was his by right ! The Dumahim Priests forged the seven Seals in fire and blood ! This age belonged to the Dumahim above all others, even Father himself !

Grabbing one of them, he hurled the useless human into the flame where he vanished with a scream. Fire was a painful thing and the man's scream quickly died out. Maybe _that_ would get their attention.

" Nooooo !"; Kaheina shouted as Tsufu was consumed by the furnace. And the monster just grinned at him. His arrows were gone, his weapons were all but spent but he didn't care any more. That was his friend that perished there. Casting all warnings aside, he rushed at the fiend barehanded. And it took him only a second to realize his mistake. A second too late.

Sardas had his arm twisted behind him in a painful grip which almost broke it. Kulkhuna tried to jump in from behind, but was simply tossed a few paces away. Pain forced Kaheina to kneel down.

" Do you see it yet ?"; Sardass hissed :" Can you smell it ? Do you sense it in your bones ?"

Ulkata stabbed him with his spear, or tried to at least, before he got hurled away braking on the ground. Shakthi was slowly trying to crawl back with much effort. All of them were on the ground but for Kaheia who was forced to kneel and watch.

" What do you want from me ?"; Kaheina spat out and Sardass' face twisted in rage

" I want you to SEE !"; he snarled and slammed his face in the ground. As he pulled him back up, blood was leaking out of Kaheina's nose. Sardas got some senses back into him by tightening the grip, sending jolts of pain trough his arm :" No, no, no, no, no, don't see it yet ! You will see it, but not yet !"

Ulkata roared and leapt at the monster giving Kaheina barely enough time to shout. And again he was too late.

In a blinding motion, Sardas hurled him away and as he span around he grabbed Ulkata's head and broke it off with a sharp twist.

Shakthi vomited.

For an instant, there was still a thick line of dark blood against the bright fires, connecting Ulkata's head, with his neck, but as it grew longer it thinned and disintegrated into nothing more than drops. The rest of Ulkata's body fell to its knees, still trying to flail his arms before it collapsed down in the dust spilling a crimson pound out of its torn neck.

Kaheina could only watch, petrified with horror as the monster took the head of his dead friend by the hair and gazed at it. The face still had the brave defiant expression with mouth opened in a silent snarl. Brave Ulkata. Always too brave for his own good. Why did he have to be so bold ?

But Sardas didn't share these feelings. Pointy tongue long as an adder slithered out of his jaws, harshly licking the face he was holding, and than he tossed into the flame too.

" Do you see it now… ?"; he hissed, slowly pacing towards them all huddled on the ground shaking and panting :" …Yes …Now you see it… Now you know what it is. "

In a mighty grab, he reached forth and took Kaheina by the throat lifting him off the ground :

" …Tell me, tiny one… tell me what you see… "; but the grip was too tight and Kaheina could only choke, gasping for air and trying to pry the claw off his neck :" TELL ME !"; Sardas roared sending chill down his back but his sight was already darkening with the lack of air.

" Enough. "; One word and the air was flowing through again. Kaheina was on the ground taking lungs full of it and his warriors were helping him away from the monster. At once Sardas was ten paces away, face twisted and teeth bared in a snarl, glaring all his malice at the ruined man who was slowly limping to them. As if the very sight of him drew him back.

It was Nm'bopo. The fall down the hill tumbled him pretty well trough dirt and dust. Blood was smearing his temples and his right arm was uselessly hanging by his side. With the aid of a long stick to help him lean on his left leg, he slowly paced forward panting through his nose.

Nm'bopo, the Nameless One, all broken up and exhausted. Nm'bopo who could have left his hated kinsmen to fight on their own. Nm'bopo who couldn't aid them one bit in his present condition, and yet here he was eager to fall down along with them.

And in the sight of it all, a new kind of respect and understanding for their shunned tribesman began to take form amongst Kaheina and his warriors. They have given up all hope they would live to see the next dawn, yet seeing him now gave them a new kind of strength and hope for tomorrow was cast away for a chance to fight by the side of such a brave warrior. And suddenly dying did not seem that hard any more.

Sardas was snarling in anger. How dare this pathetic creature, this insect, challenge him so ! How dare he undo all the crippling he wrought upon these men, restoring their will and mending their broken souls ! How _dare_ he ! But it was not what was infuriating him the most. It was the fact that this broken worm has tapped into his inner light, the one which they called Faith, and his aura was radiating with searing glee upon Sardas. How DARE he !

" Fools !"; the monster hissed :" Worms ! I'll devour your marrow ! I'll suck your vains dry ! I'll craft your screaming bones into my throne !"

The others were now standing by Nm'bopo's side calm in spirit and pose, a bunch of tired injured men who had nothing to loose. It did not matter what would come next, as long as they face it together.

It heated Sardas's rage. He didn't care about breaking them any more. All he wanted was to see them all dead. So be it ! If that was how they wanted to play, he was willing to oblige. And now, finally, they would see what he was. They would see him ! They would _know_ him !

His hiss grew into a growl, and than to a roar as he tossed his head up. They asked for this ! They provoked him into this ! The pathetic humans watched in shock as he transformed, his claws growing twice as long and muscles inflating, tearing the green fabric of his clothes. His neck thickened and face altered with his jaw growing in a muzzle full of sharp teeth. They would see him !

What emerged before the humans was a nightmare clothed in sickly pale flesh, resembling a cross reference between a bat, a jackal and a lizard, all pumped with hard muscle. Now they knew him. He didn't care about breaking them any more, as long as he could kill them.

Snorting laughter emerged from the beast as it charged for the helpless humans. The aura around the newcomer was still burning it, but the beast could ignore it. He was the beast ! Nothing could deter the beast from its path. And nothing could withstand the full charge of the true Dumahim.

Kaheina had already reconciled him self with dying, yet as he looked at Nm'bopo's face he saw something there, something which he did not have yet. And the others saw it too. Nm'bopo did not dwell on dying or surviving, he dwelled on his task, on fulfilling his mission. He was loyal and true and dedicated to his goal and nothing else concerned him. Living and dying did not fit into his equation.

And again they felt that strange devotion to their former kinsman, admiring him and his many qualities, and as the beast charged towards them, he thus unknowingly shared with them his strength. And his Light.

At the last instant before the beast's stroke, they all tapped into their inner light guided by Nm'bopo's example, their Faith in their Ancestors and the Spirit of mother Africa, the stories which stayed with them as they grew up and the songs of their tribe and their home, and summoning it all, they ignited. One moment of true realization was all it took.

The beast squealed like a wounded pray and its skin steamed tendrils of thin smoke as the Light before it flared up many times, and instead of storming trough them it hid from the glee of their faith, the blinding agony of their pure hearts. But it could not stop its charge. It simply rushed by them, claws scratching through dirt in a futile attempt to stop, and with a shrill whine flew backwards in the fiery inferno where the Twisted met their end.

At once the fire grew from yellow to crimson red and the monster's roar shook the night. A swarm of ignited black bats exploded out, knocking the warriors on the ground and swiftly vanishing in the distance like a herd of red fireflies.

It was a while of strange silence before warriors managed to pick them selves up. The fires next to them were clean yellow again. Kaheina, Kulkhuna and Shakti helped Nm'bopo on his feet and for a moment longer he studied their eyes. Their respectful eyes. Slowly he nodded acknowledging it and they nodded back. For them he was no longer the Nameless One. From this day on, they were blood brothers, a family, and no one could deny them that, not even chief Ungala even if he would banish them all.

But the sigh of relief which Shakti gave was more than premature for suddenly the ground shifted beneath their feet in an earthquake, and a cry of rage reached them from the top of the hill dispersing the tall curtain of fire like a gust of wind.

" _**SARDAAAASSSsss !**_**"**

" Oldmamah. "; Kaheina whispered like a dagger sheeted in grief.

* * *

Lazaruss _:" That's it for now. Hope you've liked it. "_


	15. It is I, Your Lord

Lazaruss : _" Once more I offer my sincerest apologies for the racist part of this chapter but I have to portray the Nazi to their character.I hope I can be forgiven._

_Aside form that… It is time for the curtains to fall… Ehe... Ehe-he… Mou-ha-ha… Waha-Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha- Ha-Ha !!"_

* * *

**Chapter 14 ; It is I, Your Lord**

With the next flash of thunder, the heavens broke opened and a thick curtain of rain begun descending upon the hill. All throughout the ruined camp, tiny puddles of muddy water were flowing in small streams amidst the torn down tents and the half packed trucks. To the west, the black pillar of smoke no longer stood. It had been clearly visible even against the night but not any longer through the shower of water drops. It was still there though, just out of common sight. And hers.

Oldmamah was sprawled on her back trying to force her arms and legs to work. The rain helped ease the pain but she was still broken, beaten down on the ground. Tears were being washed away from her face. Even now the Void gaped inside her and the pain of that loss was far worse than any other injury she received. She couldn't see. She had been blind since she could remember, but always she had her juju to guide her, the benevolent spirits of her Ancestors to be her eyes and guide her down her path. It was a payment for the sight that was denied to her, another sight, the Farsight, a rare and precious gift for anyone, more so for any tribe. And now it was ripped from her. The ache in her flesh was nothing compared to the agony of that loss. She was blind. For the first time in her life she was utterly blind and the Spirits would not come back. Ever.

A slow rustle of grass to her left told her that the Beast had moved away from her. But she didn't need her ears to tell her that. In a way she could still… sense it. The Beast was everywhere in the blackness around her. Its presence was so vast she barely felt anything else, as if the entire hill was dwarfed by the shier immensity of it and she could not stop the tides of despair and terror that were washing over her. There was no safety, no place to hide. The entire world was not big enough. All her life she was thought how to resist the snare of such dark bleakness yet now those teachings seemed like hollow words. How was anyone to fight something like that ? It was madness to even try ! But she had to. Ancestors' mercy, she had to.

At least her attempt was not a complete failure. The second creature was gone. She felt that one expire moments before… her sight was torn from her ; Before the Nightlord ripped it out ! He ripped it out ! But at least his first spawn was destroyed as well. He made her into a crippled old woman, but at least one of them was dead. At least that if nothing else. A small solace, but the only solace she had.

The Nightlord was moving away. He had lost interest in her since he… did what he did. He was there still amidst the blackness that now covered her sight, clogging all the senses she had left with his presence. Everywhere around her. Abowe and beyond and through. She wanted to back away but her arms and legs only floundered meekly. No escape. And than a strong hand sized her by her shoulder, jerking her up on her feet.

* * *

Sigmund didn't know how long had he been unconscious or what had happened after the shooting started but he wagered it wasn't good nor that it didn't have anything to do with professor Barker. The rain that had woken him was washing the blood in murky red streams away from the heap of roughly piled bodies of German soldiers surrounded by a ring of dying torches. The pile was at least four paces high and six paces wide. He wasn't all too clear of how he got there in the first place but he didn't intend on wasting time on finding out.

Professor Barker was less than ten paces away staring at the horizon. Her red eyes blazed so brightly in the night she appeared to have a crimson halloo. It made his skin crawl. She was the one who killed these men. There was no doubt about it. And worse, what's left of the unit now seemed to be under her influence. It was Captain Kenner that had knocked him out and Jorgen… Christ, Jorgen was not Jorgen any more. He looked more like… Like that thing professor Barker had become. Well, he did want to be like her and now he got it, for all the good it did him.

As distasteful as it was, there was only one thing to do ; to get the hell out of here. And he seemed to have an idea of how to do that. That old woman appeared to have managed to hold the monster away somehow. Not that he understood how she did it. He came around just in time to see them facing each other and there was no doubt that she had managed it. She was his ticket out of here.

It was now or never. Professor Barker was away, or as close to it as she would ever be. Hell, she probably knew already what he intended, but he had to try. Scrambling to his feet, he forced his muscles to propel him as fast as they ever could. He must have broken a record or two in those few strides, yet it was all it took to reach her.

Oh, the monster knew he was up, just didn't seem to care. Before it could change its mind, he grabbed the old woman by her shoulder and brought her up before him like a shield. She was light and so frail he wondered whether he had hurt her by jerking her like that. Not that he was concerned for one of _her_ kind. Certainly not ! He just wanted to use her. That was all. Though he was glad that none of the Gestapo-officers were alive to see him touch this filthy creature.

Professor Barker was smiling at him in a way which made his hair stand on its end but he determinedly held the old woman before him like a shield. All she did though was whimper. He frowned. Why wasn't she doing anything ? She was suppose to keep the monster at bay ! He knew she could ! He saw her do it ! Why…

" _I love you, red._ "

Those words chilled him to the bone giving him only an instant of warning before she struck. He didn't see how it happened, but at once the old woman was flying through the night and the next he was gasping for air on the ground a few paces away, struggling to see through the white flash that came over his eyes. Why didn't the old woman do something ? Why didn't she hold it back ? She was supposed to hold the demon back !

" _I love you, red._ "

He was dangling from her grasp facing her nightmarish grin. She was about to… Air going away… He had to… Hand fumbling through his uniform… No breath… Last chance… There on his chest… Right there !

Professor Barker snarled and he was once again tossed away, but this time because she was repelled. Maybe even hurt. The fall didn't hurt him very much, as he was sliding through the mud most of the way. Scrambling to his feet, he extended his hand and the chain of a little golden cross he carried around his neck. His superiors were pagans, maybe even his entire squad, but, by God, he was a Christian ! And he always carried his lucky charm close to his heart – a little golden cross given to him by his mother.

The monster snarled at him again but didn't advance. Everything was spinning around him and it was a great difficulty to keep erect, yet he was facing her, placing all his faith into a little chunk of a gilded metal.

" _You will die, screaming_ !" The monster spoke. It spoke in German in that dual voice as if a man and a woman were speaking together through a tin-can or something.

But she was keeping her distance. She stood back ! Maybe he should have just backed away. Maybe he should have just found his way down and used the trucks to escape. Maybe he should have left this place and never look back. But instead he made a step towards her. It felt like the hardest thing he ever did, but the next came easier.

She backed away. Snarling again and rose her arms up before her as if to shield herself from the glee. It made a spark of hope dance inside him. If he could only figure out how to kill her… He wished his head would stop spinning.

In an impossible fast motion, she bent down and grabbing one of the corpses from the pile by its ankle, she hurled it straight at him. It was all it took for him to lose balance and the ground welcomed him hard. Had he kept his fragile balance for a heartbeat longer, the flying body would have struck him. A splash of water, a white flash all over again and the crucifix vanished in the dark pounds. His hand scrambled through rain and mud trying to grasp it again but he knew it would be too late. It was already too late.

And just as he thought he was done for, another man appeared, a Bushman with a bow and a set flaming arrow aiming at Professor Barker. More came behind the first, armed with torches standing around Sigmund as if to defend him. One offered him a hand. Unlike the others, this one was dressed in a leather vest and short pants and he seemed to be in a worse shape than Sigmund, using a branch like a crouch to help him walk.

At last, Sigmund's fingers felt the metal chain amidst the mud and as the Bushman pulled him up he once more held his now muddy cross as a ward against this nightmare. Taking this man's hand was difficult and against all his principles, but at that moment he hardly cared about the teachings of a swastika. Perhaps together with them he'll be able to kill her. Perhaps now he'll be able to find a way.

Yet her sinister laughter almost finished off his hopes.

" _Is this it ?_" she mocked :" _Is this all that's left to block Dumah's path ?_"

" Not quite. "; someone spoke in English.

The one who spoke was a woman, shouldering a man and helping him climb up the hill so they could join Sigmund and his strange army. They were Professor Barker's friends and colleagues, and their prisoners while Sigmund's unit was still whole and strong. Both wet from the heavy rain they seemed as if they were being tossed around like sacks. Herr Jack barely stood on his feet. If it were not for the support of Frauline Yrona, he would have been on his knees.

Sigmund took a look at this small host. Not much, but all he had. Ether they stop this evil now or perish before trying. There was no other choice. And not much to hope for, given the odds.

And last but not least, the old hag crawled back from the dark to complete the circle. Reaching towards Frauline Yrona's leg, she spoke some gibberish Sigmund couldn't understand, but the girl only nodded.

" Yes, I understand. He is weakened now. " she spoke to all of them. " He wasted most of his strength. "

The smile slowly turned into a grimace on Professor Barker's face, her garments, soaked in blood and rain clinging wetly to her. And another detail Sigmund noticed, a peculiar thing ; she seemed to be gripping something in her fist, like a necklace on a leather cord.

" Looks like you're alone against us. " Frauline Yrona said eyes bravely fixed on what was once her friend.

Angry steam rushed on every breath the creature made while those blazing red eyes rushed from one to another who now stood to oppose it. But strangely enough, Sigmund wasn't terrified. Despite all the horror he endured, all the trials he suffered, he was resigned to see this through to the end. And looking at the others with him, he saw they shared his feelings.

The creature was not hissing any more, rather than growling with every breath, louder and louder so much that it made Sigmund uncomfortable. Whatever was to come, he was willing to face it, but he wished she would stop doing that. It made the hair on his back try to stand.

" _Alone…?_ " it grated. " _ALONE ?_ _Dumah is NEVER alone !"_

With a roar, Professor Barker threw up her hands and the night seemed to come alive around her. That was all Sigmund could call it. With a shrill wind, shadows suddenly became thick around her merging together on top of each other, encasing her in a black husk. That tiny frail girl at once grew to a monstrous size and form, looming over them like a giant. A giant of shadows. And barely visible, the form of Professor Barker floated in its chest.

At once fire was everywhere, incinerating Sigmund's clothes and dissolving his skin. He screamed and his scream joined other screams around him. No, not the fire ! Anything but the fire ! Terror raced through him. This was not happening ! It happened before. It was just an illusion. She had already done this to him. He tried to tell himself that but the fire burned. It _burned_ ! The crucifix was melting in his palm, and he screamed while the fire burned around him and through him.

Through the flames he saw others huddled on the ground or running in mad circles or squirming in the mud trying to escape what ever it was they saw, and the black Giant reveling at their display.

" _Never alone !"_ It roared and turned to the horizon " _Awaken my children ! Your slumber is done ! Come back to this world ! It is I, Your Lord ! Follow me back into the land of the living ! Let the Dumahim rule again !"_

It was the thunders that rained now, beating along with Dumah's mighty voice, booming in the distance along with his words. One great flash across the horizon banished the night in harsh glare. And the sky ignited. Where clouds were black they now became crimson red, coloring the lands beneath in blood. And where the forked lightning would strike the ground, the earth would crack, giving in to the bulging rage beneath it. Thousands of shrill voices echoed on the icy wind growing louder and louder with each boom in the distance. Compelled by their master, the Dumahim were braking through their bonds.

* * *

Struggling through the agony of her Farsight being torn from her again and again in a continuous cycle, Oldmamah was crawling through the mud. She knew what was happening to the others. She knew that the Beast had brought forth their nightmares to conquer them, but more importantly, she knew what he was doing now. She didn't need to see or to sense to know what he was doing. All his energy was being focused on one thing now ; to plunge into the spirit world and tear through the chains which kept the others like him at bay.

This was the Awakening, the thing feared by her loving Spirits, the thing which meant the end of life as it was until now, what she was hoping to prevent, hoping she could still prevent. Nm'bopo was the key, the Spirits had told her, and the key would have to perish so the Beast would perish. But that was not so. Only a poet had a chance to truly grasp the cryptic meaning of that omen before now.

And now she knew. She knew what she had to do even though those who taught her forbid of even attempting it. Ancestors' mercy, her Juju might be gone completely, but she had nothing left to lose.

Again and again the link between her and the spirits was severed in a continuous stab of agony but she staggered to her feat still. She didn't need to see the beast at all. It was everywhere around her, his presence radiating so powerfully in the vast dark she could have pointed her finger straight at it. And it was oblivious to her. The effort of the dark Juju he was burning, the sheer immensity of it was more than enough to distract him. She didn't need to see him as long as she could feel him. Above and beyond and through.

One last time she endured the pain of Farsight being cleaved from her, and with the next staggering step, she sacrificed herself leaping headlong into it letting it absorb her frail form into the vast bleakness. Someone shouted her name behind her. It was the last thing she heard on this world.

* * *

Dark. Cold. Alone. So alone. She was huddled on the cold floor. So cold. Unyielding. Grief and sorrow held her by the hands. Agony and ecstasy tightened their chains around her. She couldn't remember her name or anything else that came with it but she knew there was more to her than what she was. She had been something more. Something more than this. So alone and empty.

Power was all around her. Moving, twisting turning, if flowed everywhere around her. Thirst was burning through it. Thirst and hunger. And rage. So much rage. It was hurting her but she couldn't fight it any longer. Fighting was hurting her. She didn't know why she was fighting but she knew she had to. It was all she had left. Cold. Floor. Alone.

Than something shifted. She could feel it. The power which was storming in every direction was suddenly flowing in a continuous straight flow. All of it at once. It was more endurable now. She felt the straining, the effort of that she was fighting against. She felt it turn away from her and as it did her torment was relieved. She could almost see past the dark. She could almost feel beyond the rage. She could almost fight back. Almost. Even so, it was a bliss in it self. The first in a long while.

Whatever was happening, it was draining the dark. It was siphoning the power around her. She could feel the strain. But it was not enough. She was weak. Tired. Alone. So vast. Fire. Dark.

" Eidolon… "

That word had some meaning. She knew it meant something. Something important. If she could only remember…

" Child… Hear me… "

Something was reaching through the dark. Something that wasn't part of the dark. She had no name for it but she knew it was different. It was new and wonderful and…

" Hear me… Eidolon… "

She was sitting on a throne made of sculls in a dark room overlooking the dying lands. It was her domain. As far as she could see, all was hers to rule by whim. Except the old woman.

" Hear me child… " the old woman spoke. The one who was outside her rule.

" Who are you. " she asked slowly. Confusion. She ruled everything. Everything and everyone and yet she didn't rule this woman. Puzzled.

" I am the one who knows who you are. " she said gently.

" You know who I am… ? I try to remember… " she spoke. Confusion. Loneliness. " I try but it… it isn't there… don't know... where… "

" You have suffered so. " the woman stepped forth and gently placed her palm on her cheek. Yes, the old woman. Her touch was… different… " And you have endured for so long. Now I know I have chosen wisely. "

Her touch was different. Strength. Warm. Friends. Need. Danger. Light. Eidolon. So much strength. So strong. So much of it poring into her she thought she would burst. But it wasn't like that. It was nowhere near the strength she once had. She could remember now. But it was at least more than she had been. Far more than what he left her with to scratch her nails in the dark. Friends. Danger. Faith. Fight !

" _What do you think you are doing ?"_ The rage spoke. He _was_ the rage. _" You weak pathetic fool ! How dare you attack your master !?"_

" You are not my master !" Eidolon shouted. Eidolon ! Yes ; Eidolon ! " You thought you have broken me, but I am back. And I will never kneel to you !"

" _You are MINE ! Forever and always !"_ Rage raging at her. Searing her. But she withstood. She endured. She had to endure. " _We are one ! Now and forever !"_

" Never !" Eidolon screamed. " You are vulnerable now ! I know it ! Your power is wasted elsewhere !" Fight. Warm. Light. Friends. Love. LOVE !

" _No ! You can not do this !" _Rage. Anger. Terror. Malice_. " I am DUMAH ! The Unstoppable ! No one can defeat me !" _Evil. Darkness. Cold. Flame. Despair !

" I can !" she screamed. " I know I can !" Suffering. Agony. Sorrow ! Endure ! She had to endure ! Help. Friends ! Save ! Fight !

"_Stop !" _Rage. Despair. Pain._ "I can not… ! I can… n… not… !" _

Yrona. Jack. Bo. Help. Save. Withstand. " I… have… had… enough… of… YOU !!" Shout. Joy. Home. Love. Warmth ! Fight ! Love ! Love ! LOVE !

" _Noooooooooo !_ " Rage, dwindling. Dark, fading. Cold, vanishing. Warm. Light. Joy. Freedom ! Eidolon !

* * *

At first, Sigmund couldn't realize why the fire had gone. Why had the burning stopped. But than he saw the Shadow Giant twisting in agony. The darkness which was encasing Professor Barker was boiling, fracturing like stained glass in a swift web of brilliant cracks. The monster roared and screamed as its eyes blazed against the night.

And than it went quiet. The eyes burned out. Thunders and the wind fell silent along with it and the fire which was in the clouds slowly faded into blackness again. Sigmund and the others were getting to their feet watching the monster fall apart. It was crumbling like a statue made of ash and ember in a slow breeze. Gently evaporating in the night, it left the form of Professor Barker huddled on the scorched ground lying there motionless and calm.

" Oldmamah. " Kaheina grated. He ran to the spot but only Professor Barker was there. The old medicine-woman was gone.

" Where is she ?" Nm'bopo asked, staggering to gain his foothold back.

" She sacrificed herself. " Yrona spoke quietly. " She gave her strength to Eidolon… so Eidolon could defeat it. I saw it. " she faced Kaheina and spoke a few words to him to which he only nodded.

" I didn't know you speak the language of my tribe, miss Yrona. " Nm'bopo said and it caught her somewhat by surprise obviously, since her lips parted and her eyes bulged in confusion.

Jack was slowly coming to, shaking his head and muttering under his breath and what few of the Zulu warriors remained was trying to pull their peaces together as well. But it was over. Praised be the Lord, it was finally over. Sigmund would have laughed and danced right there if he wasn't sure he would fall face-down if he tries. It was over ! Halleluiah, it was over !

Yet the one thing that saddened Herr Jack and Frauline Yrona was the death of their friend. Professor Barker was dead and the medallion around her neck, the black silver coin was broken in two. That Bushman, Kaheina was seemingly insistent to take her head back with him while the pair of them protested that they should bring her along with them to London to give her a proper burial. Sigmund stayed out of that. All he cared about was to go back home to Berlin. If he was lucky enough, the trucks were still usable.

* * *

Rays of the blazing sun cracked through the clouds banished the dark in harsh light. The pillar of blackness which stood against the horizon dissipated leaving the sky free of its grip once more and the new day finally loose upon the land. Life and hope almost washed away across the planes of Africa as the long night was finally over.

Or so it would seem.

Scratching through the mud and rabble, once mighty Sardas Ecnematim, Maker of Hopeless, was taking his final moments on this earth mourning for the death of his master. Dumah was gone. His power was broken. Impossible. It was impossible ! He couldn't…

Sharp pain in his side ended his thoughts. The fire had drained him completely and even as he formed back, he was at the end of his strength. There was nothing he could have done. And now he was dying. There was nothing left to do… but to die…

No ! This could not be happening ! He was Sardas Ecnematim ! He could NOT be defeated ! He could not die ! He was a Dumahim ! He could NEVER die !

Blood ! Like liquid bliss, blood streamed down his throat. He almost chocked and gagged trying to gorge himself on it. Yesssss… Strong blood… Making him stronger… Taking the pain away… Restoring him… Mending broken bones and seared flesh... More… Crimson bliss… Haze…

It ended, cruelly torn from his jaws. He screamed and raged, clawing for it, struggling to get it back but he was helpless against that iron grip. Clawing, scratching, attacking, clamoring for it, yet it may have all been floundering for all the good it did. And than, through his futile efforts he recognized the one who held him. One brief moment of realization, and the shock made him want to vomit all the blood he had just devoured.

The arm which held him loosened its grip and he fell on his back gazing in horror at his savior. It took him a while before he could find his words but he managed :

" Why…?" he asked. " Why didn't you help him ? He is gone now. Dumah is gone, and you did nothing !"

Instead of an answer he received laughter. Vicious malignant laughter, which was dripping with contempt. It made his bones ache.

" Dumah was a fool and he got what he deserved. We have always known that his apetites would get the better of him sooner or later but i never imagined it would be so amusing. "

Rage and despair flared within Sardas. He lunched himself into battle, clawing, attacking, anything to end that laugh. Anything ! But pain embraced him, consumed him until there was nothing left. He screamed amidst the pain and that mocking laugh and once it was finally over he was again on the ground struggling for his life. And the laughter was still there.

" You now belong to me. All that is left of your clan belongs to me. "

Sardas looked at him broken and defeated. It was true. He knew it in his core now. Dumah was gone and the proud Dumahim were no more. And as much as he was devoted to his Sire, he wanted to live, not to perish in a futile act of defiance. At least not without a chance for vengeance.

" You will be of good use, Sardas… " That laughter again. Dark sinister laughter. He wanted to run to the ends of the earth and face the sun it self to get away from that laugh. " …Brother, brother… What wonderful shame have you brought upon yourself… " Laughing on and on, he left Sardas alone in his despair.

* * *


	16. A Black Rose

Lazaruss :" _Sorry for the delay. I hope you like this chapter._ "

* * *

**Chapter 15 ; A Black Rose**

Brilliant dawn finally came after what seemed like an endless nightmare and life in Africa slowly shifted back to normal. The beasts of the wild returned to their daily routines, struggling to survive the circle of life and remnants of the madness which held them for days now have apparently faded from their memories. Bad omens of despair and signs that were announcing the arrival of fabled monsters have dispersed leaving tribes of African plains in joy and celebration at the sight of a new day – the Day When Light Returned.

It was certainly a joyous sight for those who have survived the encounter with the Evil Spirit, the Bringer of Change, and despite the losses that the Beast clamed, the valiant warriors toasted their triumph over _klakhaa_, a strong spicy drink made of corn. While Kaheina and four of his surviving Brothers-In-Blood hailed their dead and their victory at the back trailer, Yrona, Jack and a German officer named Sigmund Volker were at the truck cabin with Sigmund behind the wheel. It was truly a lucky break that they were able to find enough gas for one truck and they were well on their way as soon as mortally possible, leaving the ruined camp and all its bad memories far behind. It was a place they all wanted to leave far behind.

The truck which made its way through the golden waist-high weeds, towed two trailers, first for the Zulu warriors who were hitching a ride back home – the least Yrona could arrange for them since they've come to their rescue – and a second trailer hooked up to the first for mortal remains of those who gave their lives in the Battle for the New Day, Eidolon's amongst others. Poor Eidolon. Yrona felt very grieved for her. It was all that came to mind when she thought of her dead friend. Grieved and sorry for her fate. She saved them all, vanquished the monster from within, and yet no one will ever know of her sacrifice. No one back home at least. Perhaps Nm'bopo's tribe could put her name in their tales. And perhaps she and Jack could publish a book about these events. Perhaps someone would even believe it truly happened… ? Doubtful. Mere hours have passed and Yrona herself wasn't sure she had not dreamed it all.

Jack was swiftly recovering from whatever had been wrong with him. The sickness which had taken him had all but receded leaving him tired, bruised and beaten. He was awake, sitting next to her while she was cleaning his injuries and bandaging his bruises. There was much medical supplies left in the camp and she had more than enough to help Jack and the Bushmen.

" Stop being a baby. " She told Jack softly as he hissed for about the fifth time to the touch of cotton dipped in alcohol. The look he gave her would have been sufficient to toss her out of the moving vehicle by itself, but instead she resumed running the cotton over his arm. " It was a bloody stupid thing to do, you know. " She told him. " Provoking them. You could have killed yourself. "

" Seemed like a good idea at a time. " He sighed. " I thought, perhaps I could reach her. Make them angry enough to… I don't know… Ahhhh ! Careful with that !" he tried to brush her off, but she restrained him.

" Sit still or I'll ask for someone to hold you down. " She told him coldly. He did, but he resumed grumbling under his breath as the truck went on bouncing down the plain in a bumpy ride.

Sighing heavily, Jack addressed their driver. " And how're you doin', Fritz ? Need any of her _tender_ care ?"

Sigmund didn't turn but he met Jack's eyes through the rearview mirror. " No. Nicht Fritz… Sigmund… My English, not so good… Errrm… Ich do fine. Ich glad we alive. "

" So are we, pal. " Jack smiled back

" Ich will leave you in Cairo. " he spoke. " Du can make your way zur home… from dort… From there. "

" Thank you. " Yrona nodded to him.

" Ich sorry for vass happened. This krieg… War… Crazy time. "

" You can say that again. " Jack sighed, and more softly gesturing back " I wish I had some of their booze. "

Back in the trailer behind them, the Bushmen have cheered triumphantly once again, followed by another toast no doubt. How much of that stuff did they have on them ? Yrona herself didn't care much for drinking but right now she felt like she could really hit the bottle. Except that Kaheina and the rest of them didn't carry it in bottles, but in skins with wooden corks' and…

" Mine got !"

The truck came to an abrupt halt as Sigmund hit the breaks almost toppling Yrona down from her seat.

" What is whit you… ?" Jack shouted before Sigmund opened the door and ran out. Exchanging a puzzled look with him, Yrona helped Jack on his feet as well before they followed their driver outside. And they weren't the only ones ; The Bushman were starting to gather too and soon all were gathered, leaving the cheers behind them.

Right in front of the vehicle, the sun-bathed dry grass of savanna was interrupted by a patch of red. A swarm of flies was buzzing over every inch of the place, especially peaces of flesh and splintered bones that now covered the sight. The stench of rotten meet made Yrona cover her mouth not to sick up. And on the ground before them were at least two dozen darkly-wet spears firmly stabbed in the ground. Severed Bushmen heads hoisted upon the shafts stared blankly at them through glazed eyes.

" With… With the sun in mine eyes… Ich almost didn't see… " Sigmund whispered.

" Mitadre… "; Nm'bopo spoke after the long silence staring at the one in front of all. Most of the bandages were spent on him, but his wounds though numerous weren't as deep as Jack's. " He was the medicine man in… "

" We must go. " Yrona stammered. " The… The carnivores will… "

" Yes. " Nm'bopo said. " Go back in the truck Mrs. Yrona. We'll take care of this. "

At his gesture, which bypassed Yrona's notice, Jack almost collapsed on her apparently from exhaustion. And as she led him back into the truck, the Zulu warriors began to gather the remains of their tribesmen.

" This was here for hours. " Kaheina spoke to him and Nm'bopo nodded. " Blood speaks loudly in the Bush. Where are the beasts ?"

" More importantly… " Nm'bopo whispered. " …what was Mitadre doing here with so many warriors ? And what had they stumbled upon ?"

With difficulty and revulsion, they gathered the heads in the sack and placed them in the second trailer along with the bodies of others. As they were closing the back, Kaheina spoke again.

" The girl doesn't speak our tongue, does she ?" Nm'bopo just shook his head. " She has the spark. "

" So it would seem. " Nm'bopo answered.

" With Oldmamah and Mitadre gone… "

" The two of them will return to their home. " Nm'bopo said. " New shamans will be found amidst our own. "

" If she indeed has the spark, " Kaheina replied. " fate will leave her no choice. She will have a hard time mastering it on her own. "

" It will be even harder if we force her into it. " Nm'bopo whispered. His eyes were on the lifeless body of Miss Barker. After his exile, looking after her was the only duty he had left, the only thing that kept him going. And he had failed her. Despite their triumph, he had failed in his duties again.

As if knowing his sentiments, Kaheina placed a hand on his shoulder. " You are not alone anymore brother. " He spoke. Sharing a smile, they closed the trailer door and went back to join the others.

* * *

Grabbing a hold of the last of the useless fools, the Master of the Backfast Abby snapped his neck like a twig tossing his lifeless body several dozen feet through the air where it crashed in a wall making a bloody smear as it slid on the floor. Mindless tools ! This was all they were good for ! He wanted to _slaughter_ ! He wanted _carnage_ ! He wanted to kill all these wretches until the floor was flooded with their blood !

But it was someone else he was really angry at. The arrogance of him ! How _dare_ he ! Dumah was gone, the insatiable fool that he was, and truth be told, he'll be far from mourned, but what really had his blood boiling was the lack of justice, the unfairness of it all. Had it been him to stay his hand, Father's Judgment would crash upon him leaving him to burn through endless sunrise ! As it was, there won't even be harsh words !

And speak of the devil, the torches in the chamber suddenly dimmed, their flames turning blue. _The sinner_ had returned. No one really knew what it was in him that drained light and heat out of flames, but no one really cared ether. One could certainly use that to detect his presence, but beyond that, it was a useless fact. He never had any intentions of hiding. What's more, he seemed to revel in the effect.

Almost dislodging the heavy dour as he broke them open, the Lord Baron marched in, grinning like an idiot. No. The Master of the Abby had to purge such thoughts from his head. Anyone who would think of him that way would be asking for Dumah's fate. But it was almost agonizingly irritating.

The room was a large circular wine-cellar in the basement of the monastery, but all the barrels were long gone replaced by alchemy tools and necromantic equipment, and the holy ground desecrated by blood of the monks so a fresh start could be made. Walls and floors were built monotonously out of brown rock bricks with little mortar, spiraling towards the center while the support beams of chiseled granite held long torches, now burning with ghastly-blue flames as a response to the newcomer's presence. He was a tall dark figure garbed in red from head to toe, baring the symbol of swastika on his collar and of course, that insufferable demented grin.

" I see you are in a cheerful mood tonight. " Lord Baron smirked observing the human remains which littered the chamber. Were he any less smart, Master of the Abby would claw that smirk off his face. Even so, he found it very difficult to restrain himself. His contempt did not need hiding, though. Let him know. And let him misjudge him for it.

" Why did you come here ?" He asked. He almost grated. " You will find no welcome here, after your failure. "

" Do you intend to call me to account ?" The Lord Baron asked amused, and giggled when his host failed to reply. " Careful, Brother… The ice is thin beneath you as it is. "

Swallowing hard, the Master of the Abby dropped his gaze. He hated his guest, _loathed_ him to the core, yet far more than that he was weary of him. It wasn't that he was afraid, not really – even he would not dare killing one of the Sons – but it was the fact that he was almost powerless in his presence, even here on his own ground. Few were not powerless in his presence. And he was not among those few, a fact he could never get used to.

" There are laws, even for us. " he spoke. " Father always was over-lenient with you, but… "

" And you were always as subtle as a blunt instrument. " His guest smiled. " The bigger picture was never fully in your grasp. "

" I grasp quite enough, _brother_. " He spoke. The rage from those insults had his teeth on edge but he hardly cared. " I see that she should learn first hand how deep the infernal pits descend, yet you dared to stay your hand ! Father will not be pleased !"

A gloved finger rubbed the chin still decorated by that insufferable smirk. " I once saw a flower blooming in the moonlight. " He spoke quietly. " The only one of its kind daring, where all others cowered before darkness. Should I have crushed such a thing ?"

" She must be punished !"

" And she will be. " He laughed harder still. " Now that she _is_ of hell, hell will seek her out. But balance will be served. "

" There is no balance in this !" He snarled. " Only chaos, just like in everything you do !"

" Exactly !" The Lord Baron rounded on him and his voice fell to a cold whisper. " And that is why you will stay away from her. We've lost Dumah, but we have a Black Rose in his stead. And if I even suspect you were attempting to rectify the matter, there just might be one less at the Day of the Awakening. "

Opening his mouth to protest, the Master closed them again. Perhaps… Perhaps he wouldn't dare to kill him, but he was determined not to underestimate what he was capable of. So instead he replied meekly. And cunningly. " I hear and obey. Yet, you can not fault me if I should… help her trials along. "

" Find comfort in that. " The Lord Baron smiled, and with a flourished bow he spoke. " It has been pleasant seeing you again Brother, but I must go. Sir Churchill needs a few pointers still. "

Turning away, he left the room, his absence allowing life to seep back into flames. And the Master of the Abby vigorously rubbed his hands together. Anger still held him, but anticipation of what was to come helped him endure. His creation will finally have a real test and a chance to see justice done accordingly. All he needed now was the final ingredient. It will take a while, but once he possessed it, not even the unsuspecting _'Lord Baron Richthofen'_ would be able to stand against him ! Ether way, that abomination of a black rose was about to learn how deep the infernal pits really were…

* * *

The evening was soon upon them, but they didn't care in the least. Joyful songs followed by cheers of happy people and the laughter of running children intertwined together with the music of animal hide drums and wooden rattles, echoing the sound of celebration throughout the entire village. Around the roaring fire in the center of the village square, dancers danced for the sunset, dressed in guises of local animals mimicking the creatures as they hopped to the beet. Smaller fires were also lit, roasting beef and lamb and people were passing clay trays and bowls of meet around, toasting over mugs of beer or ale.

Yrona was sitting cross legged on the stretched blanket of gray wool, clapping and laughing as the dancers circled around the fire. She was given an honorary place next to Chief Ungala along with the other heroes to return to the tribe. All were there except for Jack who chose to lie down on the back seat of the truck and have a few hours of sleep instead. Well, he was tired, but he didn't know what he was missing. They had definitely never seen anything like this. Even Sigmund the Nazi was having a good time. He was unwilling to attend at first, until she dragged him by the sleeve all the way to the fires. It was the roast meet that really held him there now. He was already finishing his third plate.

Nm'bopo and his friends were on the other side of the Chief's throne having a good time too, but every now and then, they would exchange a few quiet words sharing a serious face. No doubt these whispers were concerning that… massacre they had stumbled upon on the way here. The memory of it was enough to make her lose her appetite. And it was a sufficiently clear message. Both monsters were defeated, so it meant that there was another somewhere out there. At least one other. Perhaps this entire mythical Lost Civilization Eidolon had always been on about once housed creatures like Dumah. Perhaps their race had been the sovereign force of that society… Eidolon would be all over these questions by now if only she was… Poor, poor Eidolon…

A comforting hand on her shoulder almost startled her and she realized she had drifted into bitter thoughts and away from the celebration. Chief Ungala bent over from his throne-chair to whisper something encouraging into her ear but she couldn't for the love of her say what it meant. For a time Nm'bopo seemed to believe she knew his native language, after his brother Kaheina acted as if he understood what she was saying to him, but anyone would nod his head on heartening words even without knowing the language. She was doing that right now as the Chief was leaning back in his seat. No, she could not speak their language any more than she could understand it. Since they arrived at his home Nm'bopo had to translate almost everything. Maybe that notion was something to do with his religious beliefs…

Thinking of Nm'bopo, she cast a casual glance at the young woman next to Chief Ungala. Sitting on a smaller throne to the Chief's right, she bore a noble face, trying to maintain an air of dignity, allowing only a brief smile now and then. Long black hair tied together with pretty strips of red and green, fell over her right shoulder in a thick stream and a necklace of big pointy teeth centered by a roughly cut gold nugget decorated her chest. She was Niala, the Chief's daughter, and every bit as regal as her father was. Yet now, her efforts at keeping an air of dignity about her were greatly disrupted by quick glances at the bandaged man who sat almost at her feet. And Nm'bopo too had a hard time being comfortable as if he could sense her eyes on his back. Oh, he laughed, and clapped and enjoyed the meal, but Yrona could tell it was all a pretense.

God, she was drifting away again. This was not a time for pondering about such things ; this was a time for celebration. The village was safe and protected and no nightmarish monsters from a bad horror novel could disturb them here. Setting all distractions firmly aside, she relaxed and allowed herself to have a good time. She deserved it. After all, what could possibly go wrong now ?

* * *

Darkness… Endless, vast, infinite… All around… Calm… Resting… Peaceful… A strand of thought... like a ribbon of flickering silver, rippled around her… that seemed to have happened before… Her… She… She means I… Yes ; She was she… Who was she… Cold… Quiet… Peaceful… Something in the distance… Resting… Recovering…

" _I know you are listening. "_

What was that ? It broke through the silence like through a sheet of glass. What did it want ? She didn't like it. It was given to her… It was… intended for her and she caught it… Why was it taking the silence away ? It didn't matter… It was gone now, whatever it was…

" _Open your petals, black rose… "_

No. Not again ! It was taking the silence away ! She wouldn't let it ! She enjoyed the silence. Silence soothed her, comforted her, and it was taking it away !... Eidolon…

More than annoyance, this word had meaning… Word. It was a word… But there was somehow… more to it than… what it appeared… Other words drifted in, other thoughts, multitude of them, strands of silver and gold and… Red…

" _I know what you want… "_

Red… Thoughts and words started to crowd in with her, filling all the darkness… Red… Thousands of them, devouring her beautiful void like a swarm of locus… Red… So many words, so many meanings, she could barely grasp all of them … Red… It clawed at her, it _demanded_ !... Red… So beautiful… So horrible…

" No… I… can… not… "

" _I know what you need… "_

Red ! This time thought came followed by something else. A stir wormed its way through her nostrils, drilling mercilessly into her mind. Chest aching… Heart burning… so hot… so dry… so… Thirsty !

Air rich with the tantalizing aroma filled her to her toes, streaming through her gaping mouth, and at once dulled the ache, soothed the flame… So thirsty… Red. Everything was red. Everywhere was red and red was everywhere ! So thirsty…

" _I know you can not resist… "_

Dark was no longer with her but she hardly cared. Red. Her sharp fingers cut through the fabric that shrouded her but she hardly cared. Red. Silence was long gone but she hardly cared. Red. Soft steel locks shattered under her touch but she hardly cared. Red. All she could care about was Red ! All she needed was Red ! All she had to have was Red !

" So thirsty… "

And there it was, right in front of her ; beautiful Red. The moon was burning above, the earth was freezing her feet, but the Red was in front of her… Seeping with sweetness, their hearts pounding faster at her approach… Backing away… Why was it backing away ? Why was it trying to escape ?

" So thirsty… "

She could not bear it any more. All the irresistible sounds and smells tugged at her relentlessly… Sweet Red… Ripping at her… Delicious Red… Flowing… Gorging… Filling… More… Must… Need… Want… She could not bear it… All of it… Yes, all of it… More… More Red ! She needed more !

" So thirsty… "

The next one ! They were still trying to move away but nothing could take them from her. Why were they trying to deny her ? The next one ! Her fangs pierced and it flowed out filling her with raw heat, breaking the ice which gripped her. He struggled, trashing and kicking, but she didn't let go. All of it ! Fighting her… She couldn't let go. Nothing could separate her from the Red… Spinning… Drifting… Sucking on dry flesh… Unable to resist… More… She had to have ALL of it ! So thirsty...

The next one !...

* * *

" No, Kaheina !" Yrona laughed as he jerked her to her feet and pulled her to the dance floor. " I don't know how… "

" Dance !" He smiled urging. " Dance !"

As the drums went on, and the song filled the air, the two of them joined the circle of dancers around the fire. Sunlight was almost gone and stars were already dotting the heavens but the flames of the celebration still burned bright. They will burn through the entire night still until morning when the shamans from the nearest village arrive to perform the rights on mortal remains of those fallen. Yrona didn't intend to stick around for that. She and Jack had already decided to bury Eidolon on British soil.

But right now all she cared about was to try and follow the elephant-man as best she could while he stomped his feet into the dusty ground, lumbering on. It was remarkable. He was imitating the real animal flawlessly. Already she felt light on her feet from the ale, but that didn't stop her from joining in as some kind of a bird, flapping her arms and trying to keep her balance about her. She should have taken a few mugs less, but she was suddenly so thirsty she didn't even notice. It was a bit strange. The beef was not exactly salty but all of a sudden she felt as if she would burn to a crisp if she didn't drink all of those mugs.

It was much better now. Dancing seemed to help clear her head. Behind her, Kaheina was being a… kind of a big cat on the prowl… Maybe it was a tiger or something… She didn't care. It was all good fun. Nm'bopo was still too injured for such a rapid dance but he urged her on with claps and laughs. And Princes Niala gave her an approving nod. Maybe it won't be so hard on Sigmund when she includes him in the next dance… He was in his shirtsleeves now, sitting on his green jacket and clapping to the beet while grinning at her and the dancers. Who would have thought a Nazi would ever…

Someone screamed so abruptly, tearing through all the joy with cold terror. It was a child's voice. At once all the drums went silent leaving only the song of burning wood to crack in the night. A skinny boy, terrified and shouting, broke through the crowd of people running for all his worth. What ever he was saying, it sounded desperately important. Chief Ungala bounded to his feet, and even Sigmund looked more alert now.

" What's happening ?" she whispered

Kaheina suddenly had a spear in his hand. She had no idea how it got there or when, but at once he was tense like a spring, ready to uncoil in an instant. The boy ran back from whence he came still shouting, and the people started after him, grabbing spears and shields and torches. It was a mob. Fortunately, Kaheina aided her to reach Nm'bopo and the others, struggling through the crowd of running people to give her room.

" Bo !" She shouted once she finally got there. " What's happening ?"

" Something is attacking the cattle. " He swallowed. Getting up was an effort for him, but his brothers helped him and with him and Yrona behind them, they all went to see what the commotion was about.

Shadows of running people skittered over flame illuminated huts of mud and grass as the entire village now streamed to the pasture where the cattle grazed. Yrona was helping Nm'bopo limp while Sigmund, Kaheina, Ulkata and Shakti went in front making sure the crowd gave them room. Nm'bopo didn't say much beyond the fact that the cattle were being attacked, yet somehow Yrona knew there was more to it. It wasn't simply a pack of lions to have the entire village up and running. But more than that, she knew as she held him, she knew he was afraid. He was terrified of something. Perhaps…

Something black like a long snake, blacker than the night passed before her face and she gave a start almost dropping Nm'bopo's arm, but when she looked more closely there was nothing there. Her heart started pounding. It may have been just a shadow in the torch flames… It may have been…

Suddenly she noticed that the crowd was slowing down and that Sigmund and the Bushmen had to push their way through the others in order to make room. The crowd gave way slowly as if blind to their group, all staring silently at the clearing before them. No one stirred or made a sound but for the helpless mooing of cows that echoed through the night. They were all afraid to move a muscle. She could feel it somehow, see it in them though they all had blank stony faces which gave off nothing, and she knew, just like she knew it in Nm'bopo.

Finally, they broke through the crowd emerging at the clearing. Sigmund and the warriors which led the way immediately broke to the side allowing Yrona and Nm'bopo through. All the villagers were standing around in a wide circle gazing in silence at what stood before them. The place was a spacey coral bordered with white wooden fence, where the cows had plenty of room to roam freely. A ditch of water ran near by. But now, all the cows were trying to huddle together in one corner, as far away as possible from three large black forms which lied on the dusty ground. It took a while for Yrona's eyes to adapt to the darkness, but once they did she saw these were cows too, only somehow skinny, lying there as if fainted. Very skinny for average cows, all skin and bone.

One of them still moved and twitched. It seemed as if it was trying to wail, or to gasp for air but was unable to. And it was than that Yrona saw that something held it there, a black form gripping the poor animal tightly. Slowly, the predator put the cow's lifeless head on the red dirt of the coral, standing up on rear legs... It was a man… No it was a woman… It was…

Yrona gasped putting a hand over her mouth and Nm'bopo's jaw dropped. Sigmund's eyes went as wide as coffee cups and he made a step back gripping that little golden cross which stood on his chest.

Lumbering on unsteady feet, full of brown dust stained with blackened blood, Eidolon stepped into the light. In golden flames of torches, her black hair seemed like some kind of pale wood carving with all the dirt in it. Her green safari outfit was all rumpled and disarrayed now, and dark thick cow blood oozed down from her lips. Those behind Yrona backed away before her approach murmuring in terror but Yrona herself was too aghast to move. She was dead ! Eidolon was dead ! Her body was in the truck ! She can not be here if she was in the truck !

As she got closer, Kaheina darted at the apparition, stabbing wildly with his spear. Yrona barely had time to shout as the black metal head went in Eidolon's heart. And than the Bushman was on the ground holding peaces of the shaft that broke in his hands. The spear stabbed cleanly in Eidolon's chest, but it broke with the force of impact, rather than stabbing through making Kaheina lose his stand. She didn't even seem to notice, but the others did and the frightened murmur intensified behind her followed by more steps back.

Yrona was frozen in terror as the creature in the guise of her dead friend drew closer to her, keeping those horrible red eyes locked on hers. She wanted to scream but only a squeak passed through her lips. The thing stopped not three feet from her observing her in a dreadfully demented way, eyes bulged and lips parted, and than it tilted her head slightly.

" … Yro… n… na… " It hissed silently. " Yron… na… "

Yrona was too stunned to speak, but she managed to force the word out :

" E… Eidolon… ?"

" Yrona… " She hissed slowly with thin red stream still dripping from her lip. " Wha… What haaave you done to me…eeee… Whathave you done tomeeEEEEEEEE !"

* * *

Lazaruss :" _I'll try to post the next chapter sooner. Bye. _ "


End file.
